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AN    ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 


Goodman 
theatfb 


AN  ENGLISHMAN'S 
HOME 

A     PLAY    IN    THREE    ACTS 


BY 

Major  Guy  du  Maurier,  D.S.O. 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

NEW   YORK    AND    LONDON 

MCMIX 


THE  PLAY  PUBLISHED  IN  THIS  VOLUME  IS 
COPYRIGHTED  AS  A  DRAMATIC  COMPOSITION. 
STAGE    AND    PLATFORM    RIGHTS   RESERVED 


Copyright,  1909,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  April,  1909. 


CHARACTERS 

Mr.  Brown.  Fifty-five,  of  middle  height,  thick -set, 
gray;  clean-shaved,  with  close-cropped  mutton-chop  whisk- 
ers. Rather  red  face,  getting  fat  about  the  back  of  his  neck. 
City  man,  say  a  merchant  in  Berlin  wools;  middle  class — 
rather  near  the  bottom  of  that  class.  Shrewd,  but  not  very 
intelligent.  Wears  a  city  man's  clothes,  except  the  coat, 
which  is  a  very  old  and  comfortable  Norfolk,  made  by  a 
cheap  ready-made  tailor;  stupid  trousers — shiny,  very 
kneed,  and  a  little  short. 

Reggie  Brown.  His  eldest  son,  about  twenty-eight. 
About  five  feet  ten  inches,  fair,  fat,  clean-shaved — going  to 
be  like  his  father.  Wears  very  commonplace  suit  of  dittoes, 
rather  tight  for  him,  stick-up  collar,  red  tie,  and  pumps. 

Syd  Brown.  Younger  son,  about  twelve.  Tall  for 
his  age,  very  thin,  pale-faced,  and  rather  spotty,  with  a  sharp, 
sly  sort  of  face.  Dank,  light-brown  hair.  He  wears  a  very 
high  up-and-down  collar,  blue  knickerbockers  and  stockings, 
and  slippers.  No  waistcoat,  and  a  faded  maroon  blazer 
with  yellow  braiding  and  a  crossed  tennis-bat  on  the  pocket. 
Smokes  fags. 

Geoffrey  Smith.  Twenty-five,  short,  thin,  narrow-chest- 
[I] 


CHARACTERS 


ed,  sloping  shoulders,  knock-kneed  and  lark-heeled;  dark 
hair  growing  far  back,  and  sticking  up  a  little  on  the  crown; 
runaway  chin  and  bad  teeth,  with  a  thin  neck  and  large 
apple;  a  dark-brown  mustache  which,  from  much  cutting, 
sticks  out  like  a  toothbrush.  Wears  a  brown  suit  with  a 
faint  white  line  on  it,  very  new,  ready-made  brown  boots 
(button),  showing  short,  thick,  deformed  feet;  a  crude  purple 
tie  and  a  stick-up  collar. 

Paul  Robinson.  Twenty-eight,  slight,  and  of  middle 
height;  nice  face,  rather  pale,  and  looks  delicate.  If  he 
were  well  dressed  and  had  a  better  color  would  look  a 
nice  fellow.  Dressed  in  service-dress  of  a  private  in  the  Vol- 
unteers, fitting  very  badly,  being  two  sizes  too  large  for  him. 

Maggie  Brown.  Twenty-one,  nice-looking,  clean,  dark 
girl,  neatly  dressed,  with  a  strong,  clear  voice. 

Amy  Brown.  Eighteen,  tall  girl,  full  figure — handsome, 
but  rather  in  a  cold  way;  high  complexion,  loud  voice,  loud 
laugh.  A  good  sort,  a  little  overdressed  in  a  cheap  suburban 
way. 

Ada  Jones.  Twenty-one,  very  unattractive  girl,  flat- 
chested  and  thin-faced;  pince-nez,  frizzy  hair  done  up 
elaborately;  cheap  silver  jewelery;  ugly  feet  in  tight,  high- 
heeled  shoes. 

Captain  Prince  Yoland.  Tall,  fair  Nearlander;  thick- 
jowled  and  thick-necked;  very  short  hair,  slight  mustache. 
Cavalry  uniform  covered  with  mud. 

Lieutenant  Rian  Hobart.     Same  regiment. 

Sergeant  Thol.    Nearland  Cavalry. 

[2] 


CHARACTERS 


Sergeant  Garth.    Nearland  Cavalry. 

Captain  Finch.     Officer  of  English  Volunteers. 

Second  Lieutenant  Jackson.  Officer  of  English 
Volunteers. 

Color  Sergeant  Harris.    Officer  of  English  Volunteers. 

Doctor.     Officer  of  English  Volunteers. 

Captain  Lindsay.     Adjutant  of  English  Volunteers. 

Soldiers.  Typical  Nearland  Cavalry  and  Nearland 
Infantry. 

English  Volunteers.    A  mixed  lot. 


SCENE 

The  action  of  the  play  takes  place  in  the  "playroom"  of 
Mr.  Brown's  house,  "The  Firs,"  at  Wickham,  in  Essex. 

The  playroom  is  a  large,  comfortable  room  on  the  ground 
floor,  furnished  in  a  cheerful  and  homely  but  essentially 
suburban  manner. 

It  is  a  room  that  is  obviously  lived  in.  The  chairs  are 
comfortable;  tables  littered  with  books,  papers,  and  evi- 
dences of  the  occupations  of  the  Browns. 

One  or  two  prints  of  popular  pictures,  framed  in  maple, 
on  the  wall — for  example,  Coming  of  Age  in  the  Olden  Time, 
a  couple  of  Marcus  Stone's. 

A  piano  and  much  littered  music — comic  operas,  some 
two-steps,  and  a  few  comic  songs. 

Many  photographs  in  frames  everywhere — all  the  leading 
actors  and  actresses. 

A  statuet  of  Britannia  on  the  mantelpiece. 

At  back  of  stage,  French  windows  leading  on  to  a  lawn, 
fireplace  down  left,  with  door  right  down  left.  A  cosey  bow- 
window  with  window-seat  on  right;  another  door  down 
right. 

[5] 


THE    FIRST    ACT 


AN     ENGLISHMAN'S 
HOME 

THE    FIRST    ACT 

When  the  curtain  goes  up  it  is  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning 
— boxing-day.  The  gas  is  lit  in  the  playroom,  and  there  is 
a  dense  fog  outside  seen  through  the  windows. 

Maggie  Brown  is  reading,  comfortably  sitting  in  the  win- 
dow-seat. Reggie  Brown,  at  a  table,  is  doing  limericks, 
telegrams, wit  competitions,  etc.;  all  the  comic  papers,  much 
foolscap,  envelopes,  sixpenny  P.  O's.  He  is  wrapped  in  the 
throes  of  composition.  Mr.  Brown  is  back,  in  front  of  the 
French  windows,  practising  diabolo;  there  are  several  pairs 
of  sticks,  and  cones  of  all  weights  and  sizes.  He  practises 
the  posture  without  using  cone  for  some  time,  and  is  ad- 
vanced to  practise  with  cone  as  the  Act  goes  on.  Near  him 
is  Syd  Brown,  with  several  books  on  the  game  of  diabolo, 
from  which  he  reads  directions.  Standing  with  his  back 
to  the  fire,  Geoffrey  Smith  is  reading    from  a  football 

[9] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

paper  called  The  Goal  Post.  Amy  Brown  is  lolling  in  an 
arm-chair  facing  him.  Ada  Jones  sits  on  the  arm  of  the 
same  chair. 

Geoffrey  [reads].  "After  a  pretty  exchange  of 
long  bowls  ..." 

[Brown  throws  diabolo  cone  up,  and 
it  drops.] 

Syd.  Look  out,  Dad!     Heads! 

Reggie.  Steady,  Dad! 

Brown.  Sorry,  sorry;  don't  let  me  interrupt  you, 
Geoffrey.  Go  on  with  your  account  of  the  football 
mach — very  interesting. 

Geoffrey  [lights  cigarette].  Where  was  I .? 
[Reads.]  "After  a  pretty  exchange  of  long  bowls 
between  the  backs,  which  kept  the  heads  of  the  for- 
wards up  and  gave  them  a  breather,  the  sphere  settled 
down  at  the  Blues'  front  door  and  looked  as  if  it  had 
come  to  stay,  although  'Long  Jervis'  and  A.  P.. 
Henstock  did  their  best  to  make  a  parting  guest  of 
it — and  a  speedy  one  at  that.  But  the  East  Finchley 
Friday  front  line  were  all  over  them,  like  our  fair 
sisters  round  the  shop -walkers  at  a  summer  sale, 
and  the  Pirates'  goal  looked  ten  times  its  proper  size 
to  their  anxious  supporters.  But  after  a  pretty  bit 
of  head  work  by  Kelvin  and  *Scotty'  Smith,  relief 

[10] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

came.  Borrodaile  got  his  hands  between  the  ball  and 
his  last  meal,  and  the  referee  gave  a  foul — on  appeal.*' 
[Throws  cigarette  away.] 

Syd.  Oh!  I  shouldn't  call  that  a  foul. 

Geoffrey.  Well,  strictly  speaking,  perhaps  not. 
But,  you  see,  when  a  man's  writing  a  real  picturesque 
account  like  this  he  can't  be  expected  to  call  every- 
thing by  the  correct  name — sort  of  poetic  license, 
you  know. 

Amy.  Yes,  of  course,  I  understand  that.  I  call 
it  pretty  neat,  don't  you,  Geoffrey  ? 

Geoffrey.  Splendid !  That  touch  about  old  Bor- 
rodaile's  last  meal — pretty  smart;  he  don't  stint  him- 
self, does  J.  M.     What  do  you  think  .? 

Ada.  I  don't  suppose  he'd  eat  much  just  before 
a  match,  would  he  ?    My  brother  says  .  .  . 

Geoffrey.  "The  booing  of  the  crowd  at  the 
decision  of  the  luckless  official  showed  pretty  clearly 
which  team  had  the  largest  number  of  supporters 
among  the  assembled  sportsmen.  Still,  shouts  of 
*Well  done,  Artie!'  were  sufficiently  conspicuous  to 
prove  that  Captain  Arthur  Simpson  was  not  entirely 
out  of  favor,  and  that  the  Pirates'  stock,  though 
below  par,  was  not  entirely  unsalable." 

Amy.  Good  old  Artie — don't  suppose  he  cared,  he's 
pretty  used  to  being  bored. 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Geoffrey.  Why  should  he  mind  ?  He's  paid 
for  it. 

Reggie.  I  think  it's  all  rot,  booing  the  referree. 
It  doesn't  do  any  good,  and  he  probably  sees  more^ 
and  knows  more  of  the  game  than  any  of  the  crowd 
looking  on. 

Geoffrey.  Now  you're  talking  through  your  hat. 
My  friends,  don't  you  believe  that  sort  of  thing. 
The  referee  is  paid  by  the  gate,  and  the  crowd  pays 
for  the  refer — and  if  you're  paying;  a;  man  you've 
surely  a  right  to  tell  him  what  you  think  of  him. 
What  do  you  say,  Mr.  B.  ? 

Brown.  The  right  of  every  Englishman  to  express 
his  approval  or  disapproval  with  the  work  of  those 
who  are  in  a  sense  servants  of  the  public  is  a  prin- 
ciple with  which  I  am  in  complete  sympathy.  We— 
er — are  a  free  people,  and  we  should  never  neglect 
an  opportunity  for  impressing  that  fact  on — er — 
those  who  may  be  inclined  to  doubt  it. 

Geoffrey.  I  don't  think  old  Artie  doubts  it,  to 
do  him  justice.  He's  been  laid  out  twice  in  the 
North. 

Brown.  I  have  no  doubt  he  deserved  it. 

Ada.  My  brother  says — 

Amy.  Push  off,  Geoff. 

Geoffrey.  "This  relieved  the  pressure — cleared 

[12] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

the  air  and  the  goal — and  once  more  the  backs  gave 
an  exhibition  which  did  little  good,  but  hurt  no  one 
except  perhaps  the  uncomplaining  spheroid  who  took 
it  lying  down — or  perhaps  we  should  say  flying  down 
— and  up. 

"Little  Teddy  took  the  pass  on  the  wing,  and, 
jinking  closely,  raced  along,  hugging  the  cushion,  at 
lightning  speed,  steadied  at  the  distance  and  centred 
full  in  front  of  the  E.  F.  F.  goal." 

Amy  and  Ada.  Yes,  yes — go  on. 

Geoffrey.  "  George  took  it  on  the  hop,  and,  shoot- 
ing hard  and  high,  netted  the  mud  orange  within  ten 
seconds  of  time." 

Syd.  Hurrah! 

Geoffrey.  "This  gave  the  match  to  the  Pirates, 
and  although  the  supporters  of  the  Buff  and  Treacle 
felt  the  loss  of  their  money,  and  showed  their  feelings 
in  an  attempt  to  mob  the  referee,  we  venture  to  as- 
sert that  when  the  initial  soreness  had  worn  off,  not 
one  of  the  fifty  thousand  true  English  sportsmen 
who  watched  the  game  went  away  with  the  feeling 
that  he  had  wasted  time  or  money  in  spending  it  on 
one  of  the  finest  games  it  has  ever  been  our  good- 
fortune  to  witness." 

Amy.  How  perfectly  ripping — and  to  think  we 
missed  it,  and  all  on  account  of  the  rotten  old  fog. 

[13] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Ada.  We're  missing  everything — that,  and  the 
other  match  on  Wednesday,  and  the  matinee  on 
Saturday. 

Amy.  Oh,  bother  the  matinee!  We  can  see  that 
any  time,  but  we  shall  never  see  another  match  like 
that — eh,  GeofF.? 

Geoffrey.  Well,  I  wouldn't  go  so  far  as  to  say 
that! 

Amy.  Just  our  rotten  luck  that  the  match  came 
off  at  all.     What  price  the  fog  down  at  Barn  Oaks  1 

Geoffrey.  Well,  you  see  what  this  fellow  says: 
[Reads.]  "Although  the  dense  fog  kept  many  thou- 
sands of  the  less  ardent  away,  some  thousands  of  true 
footballers  ran  the  risk  of  disappointment,  and  were 
rewarded  by  finding  on  arrival  that  a  slight  and  pre- 
sumably purely  local  clearing  just  gave  them  a  view 
of  the  ground,  and  enabled  the  game  to  proceed." 
Great  Jehoshaphat,  that  fellow  can  write!  It's  al- 
most as  good  as  seeing  the  match  one's  self  to  read 
a  real  stirring  account  of  it,  eh.  Amy } 

Amy.  Well,  I'm  not  so  struck  on  literature  my- 
self, and  I'd  rather  have  been  there — and  seen  it. 

Ada.  My  brother  saw  it — he  goes  everywhere. 
He  had  five  shillings  on  West  Finchley — I  bet  he 
booed  that  umpire  a  bit. 

Geoffrey.  Well,  if  I  had  a  gift  for  writing  like 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

that  chap,  Fd  chuck  the  old  office  mighty  quick,  I 
can  tell  you.  Now,  Maggie,  you're  a  judge  of  real 
literature — ^what  do  you  think  of  it  ? 

Maggie.  Well,  Geoffrey,  it's  a  great  subject. 
But,  do  you  know,  I  wasn't  listening  very  carefully, 
so  I  can't  say — and  I  don't  quite  understand  it.  I 
think  there  is  too  much — too  much — ^what  d'you  call 
it.? — metaphor.  .  .  . 

Geoffrey.  Don't  you  like  it,  Maggie .?  Remem- 
ber, he's  paid  by  the  line. 

Maggie.  Ah!  For  instance,  now,  what  does 
"doing  good  work  with  his  right"  mean .? 

Geoffrey.  Why,  that  means  he  brought  off  some 
amazing  fine  kicks  with  his  right  foot.  And  he's 
strong  on  his  rights,  too,  is  Jimmy. 

Syd.  Now,  Dad,  you  must  keep  that  left  shoulder 
steady.  Just  listen  to  what  Plum  Warner  says: 
"The  left  upper  arm  must  be  kept  rigid  with  the 
elbow  slightly  forward,  with  a  play  of  not  more 
than  two  or  three  inches — " 

Brown.  Well,  Sydney,  I  am  trying.  But  there 
are  so  many  points  to  think  of.  What's  he  say  again 
about  the  grip  of  the  left  hand  ? 

Syd.  Wait  a  minute!  [Reads.]  "The  stick  is  to 
be  held  lightly  in  the  left  hand — not  more  than  two 
inches  from  the  end,  most  of  the  work  being  done 

[15] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

by  the  first  two  fingers."     Now  you're  using  your 
thumb  too  much,  Governor. 

Brown.  Yes,  that's  all  very  well;  but  the  Bad- 
minton book  says:  "The  stick  should  be  held  at 
least  half-way  up,  and  full  in  the  palm  of  the  hand, 
and  the  elbow  firmly  glued  to  the  left  hip." 

Syd.  Yes;  but  that's  with  a  thirty-inch  stick  and 
a  ten-ounce  cone — ^you  must  remember  the  differ- 
ence. 

Brown.  But,  Sydney,  my  boy,  that  article  in  the 
Times  by  the  ex-Minister  of  the  Interior  says  that 
there  are  several  ways  of  starting,  and  that  every 
beginner  had  better  find  out  the  way  that  suited 
him  best. 

Syd.  Oh  well,  if  you  want  to  play  the  game  that 
way,  do.  But  you  won't  get  any  style — ^you'll  never 
be  any  class  at  it. 

Reggie  I  say,  tell  me  a  rhyme  to  "Wormwood 
Scrubbs." 

Geoffrey.  No,  it  wasn't;  it  was  Alf  Gagpinch 
sang  that.  He's  got  a  corking  new  song  now,  about 
the  strike.  I  tell  you  it  catches  on  all  right — it's 
a  fizzer. 

Maggie.  How  does  it  fizz.? 

Geoffrey.  Amy,  you  can  play  the  chorus. 

Amy.  What's  that,  Geoff.? 
[i6] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Geoffrey.  You  know— "Oh!  oh!  the  G.  P.  O." 
[Reggie  picks  up  paper,  and  exit. 
When  song  begins  Geoffrey  sings 
to  an  amazingly  commonplace  music- 
hall  tune.] 
{Chorus)  What's  the  good  of  a  penny  stamp 
When  the  G.  P.  O.'s  on  strike? 
What's  the  good  of  a  telegram 

When  the  postman's  copped  the  spike  ? 
You  can't  get  on  to  the  telephone, 
You've  got  to  get  on  to  your  bike. 
Or  tickle  the  street 
On  your  plates  of  meat. 
And  all  because  of  the  strike! 
Syd.  Hurrah!     That's  fine — how  does  it  go  on? 
Geoffrey.  Can't  remember  any  more.     I've  only 
heard  it  four  times. 

Ada.  My  brother  knows  the  whole  of  one  verse, 
and  bits  of  the  others.     He's  heard  it  lots  of  times. 
He's  very  smart  at  picking  up  those  songs. 
Geoffrey.  Oh,  is  he? 

Brown.  Well,  I  may  be  old-fashioned,  and  of 
course  these  music-hall  singers  being,  so  to  speak, 
servants  of  the  public,  must  please  the  public.  But 
I  don't  approve  of  this  turning  of  a  national  disgrace 
into  a  subject  for  a  comic  song. 

[17] 


AN  ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Geoffrey.  Hear,  hear — the  ayes  have  it. 

Brown.  Yes;  but  owing  to  this  confounded  tele- 
graphic and  postal  strike,  business  is  at  a  standstill. 
The  money  market  has  ceased  to  exist.  We  are  in  the 
dark  as  to  the  fluctuation  of  trade  in  our  own  capital 
or  what  our  rivals  across  the  seas  are  doing — and 
except  by  most  devious  and  lengthy  means  we  hear 
nothing — absolutely  nothing — from  the  other  great 
business  centres  in  the  kingdom.  The  progress  of 
events  in  our  great  oversea  dependencies  is  hidden 
from  us,  and  what  news  we  do  get  as  to  the  daily 
movements  of  our  aristocracy  ...  is  not  always  to 
be  relied  upon. 

Geoffrey.  Well,  I  don't  so  much  mind  all  that. 
We  get  most  of  the  football  news,  anyway,  and  if  I 
could  only  get  some  sort  of  idea  of  how  the  test 
matches  are  going  I  could  bear  the  disappointment 
about  the  Upper  Ten. 

Ada.  There  was  a  lot  about  Romeo  Qarkson  in 
the  Sunday  Times.  My  brother  knows  his  dresser, 
and  says  it's  true — every  word. 

Geoffrey.  Does  he  ? 

Brown.  I  repeat,  sir,  that  this  strike  is  a  dis- 
grace to  England.  These  men  are  public  servants 
and  owe  a  duty  to  the  country,  and  I,  for  one,  think 
that  that  public  duty  should  come  before  any  private 

[i8] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

discomfort  or  personal  grievance  they  may  suffer 
from. 
Geoffrey.  Cheers — some  laughter! 
Maggie.  You   ought  to  be  in  the  House,  Dad. 
You'd  make  'em  sit  up. 

Brown.  If  I  had  a  seat,  I  think  I  could  make 
things  uncomfortable  for  the — the — er — 

Maggie.  The  man  who  sat  next  you,  anyway. 
Geoffrey.  Mr.  Speaker,  I  rise  on  a  point — 
Amy.  Well,   that's   better   than   sitting   down   on 
one. 

Geoffrey.  That  puts  you  in,   Amy.  Score,  2  love. 
Ha!    ha!    ha! 

[Enter  Reggie.] 
Reggie.  I  wish  to  goodness  you'd  all  be  quiet  for 
a  bit  and  help.  It's  impossible  to  think  seriously, 
or  do  any  work  while  you're  making  so  much  noise. 
Look  here,  perhaps  you  can  suggest  a  last  line  for 
this  limerick  in  "Flip-Buts": 

A  man  from  the  Isle  of  Wight 
Came  home  to  his  wife  rather  tight, 
Her  legs  were  both  game. 
And  her  left  arm  the  same — 
Ti  tum,  te  ti  tum,  te  ti  tum. 
Geoffrey.  Yes,  but  that  don't  rhyme. 
Reggie.  Oh,  you're  very  funny,  aren't  you  ^    I 
[19] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

thought  of  putting:    "And   so  he   stopped   out   all 
ni-ight." 

Amy.  Don't,  Reggie,  you'll  hurt  yourself. 

Reggie.  It's  all  very  well  to  rot,  but  you  can't 
think  of  anything  better.  Now,  Maggie,  you  sug- 
gest. 

Maggie.  I'm  afraid  I  wasn't  listening.  Just  say 
it  again,  will  you  ? 

[Reggie  repeats  the  limerick.] 

"She  did  some  good  work  with  her  right.'* 

Geoffrey.  Not  bad,  for  you,  Maggie. 

Reggie.  Can't  you  think  of  anything  better  ? 

Maggie.  I'm  afraid  not — the  fog's  got  into  my 
brain. 

Ada.  Oh,  don't  talk  of  the  fog — it's  got  into  every- 
thing.    My  father  says — 

Geoffrey.  Well,  there's  points  about  the  fog,  too. 
Had  a  jolly  good  day  off  at  the  office  on  Friday  be- 
cause of  it.  Day  before,  I  left  early  to  attend  my 
aunt's  christening,  lost  my  way  to  the  church,  and 
found  I  was  looking  on  at  Preston  Knight  Errants 
getting  the  knock  from  Hornsey  Crusaders — good 
game  it  was  too,  and  I  hadn't  got  a  thirst  on  me 
when  it  was  over — oh,  dear  no! — after  smoking  two 
packets  of  cigs  and  shouting  till  I  nearly  cracked  my 
laryngitis — saving  your  presence,  Ada. 

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AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Ada.  Oh,  don't  mind  me,  GeofF — my  brother  says 
worse  things  than  that! 

Geoffrey.  Oh!  So  after  that,  Jimmie  Hall  and 
a  pal  of  his — a  real  sport  he  was,  in  Spencer  and 
Watton's  city  branch — and  yours  obedient,  went  and 
had  a  soup,  fish,  and  a  follow  at  Benoni's,  and  took 
three  front-row  velvets  at  the  Oxford.  More  shout- 
ing, more  cigs,  and,  mark  you,  more  thirst.  So  we 
went  large  in  the  supper  line.  I  tell  you,  we  made 
the  waiter  stare — and  caught  the  last  train  by  the 
edge  of  the  buffer.  It  was  a  night!  There  wasn't 
much  change  out  of  a  sov.  by  the  time  we  got  back 
to  our  ancestral  halls.  And  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  that  I  was  a  bit  blindo,  and  when  I  woke  next 
morning,  after  a  fair  old  "Here  we  go  round  the 
mulberry  bush,"  I  felt  more  like  going  and  lying  in 
the  poultry-yard  and  playing  with  the  chickens  than 
facing  the  office. 

[Enter  Paul.] 

Morning,  Paul.     Hello,  Kitchener! 

Paul.  Good-morning,  everybody. 

Geoffrey.  Not  a  drum  was  heard — not  a  bloom- 
in'  one.  And,  as  we're  old  friends,  Paul,  we  don't 
mind  telling  you  the  reason. 

Amy.  We  haven't  got  a  drum. 

Geoffrey.  Thank  you.  Amy. 

[21] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Paul.  I'm  sorry  there  wasn't  any  music. 

Geoffrey.  Oh,  if  you  want  some,  Amy  will 
oblige,  on  the  piano,  with  "The  Return  of  the 
Soldier" — after  the  pubs  were  closed. 

Amy.  Don't  worry  about  him,  Geoff — go  and  see 
the  Follies. 

Ada.  My  brother  has  seen  the  Follies  twice. 

Paul.  Well,  Geoff,  you  seem  in  good  form. 

Geoffrey.  Oh,  I'm  merry  and  bright,  thank  you 
— can  sit  up  and  take  a  bit  of  nourishment  between 
meals.  But  what's  your  entertainment — going  to 
a  levee,  or  is  it  private  theatricals,  and  you're  dressed 
for  the  part  of  the  Battle  of  Waterloo  Junction  ? 

Paul.  Well,  the  fact  is,  I  was  down  to  do  some 
target  practice  to-day.  But  I'm  afraid  it's  too 
thick. 

Geoffrey.  Target  practice!  Look  at  him,  ladies 
and  gentlemen.  Spends  his  afternoons,  when  he 
might  be  encouraging  sport  by  cheering  on  the 
winning  team,  dressed  up  like  that,  lying  on  his 
delicate  chest  in  the  mud,  trying  to  make  holes  in  a 
defenceless  target. 

Paul.  Bet  you  couldn't  hit  one,  Geoff. 

Geoffrey.  Wrong  again,  Blucher.  Shooting's 
one  of  my  strong  points.  Not  targets,  though,  bless 
you — something  more  sporting  for  me. 

[22] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Amy.  GeofF  shot  three  sea-gulls  at  Westgate  this 
summer. 

Geoffrey.  And  one  of  'em  was  flying,  too,  and 
that's  more  than  your  old  targets  can  do. 

Reggie.  Dry  up,  GeofF.  Look  here,  Paul,  can 
you  give  me  a  notion  for  one  of  these  pictures  in 
the  Repartee  Competition  in  Tip-top  Tips?  You 
see  that  dog — well,  the  tramp  says  to  the  gentle- 
man, "That's  a  nice  little  dawg  you've  got  there, 
mister." 

Paul.  Yes,  I  see. 

Reggie.  Well,  now,  what  does  the  other  man  say  ? 

Paul.  How  should  I  know,  Reggie  ? 

Reggie.  No,  but  what  would  you  say  ? 

Paul.  Well,  I  don't  think  it  is  much  of  a  dog,  and 
I  suppose  I  should  say  so. 

Reggie.  But,  man,  it's  got  to  be  witty,  or  sarcas- 
tic, or  something. 

Paul.  Well,  Mr.  Brown,  how  are  you  getting  on  ? 

Brown.  Pretty  well,  Paul,  pretty  well,  I  think; 
but  it  takes  time. 

Paul.  Oh,  by  the  way,  I've  brought  you  a  Daily 
Halfpenny  from  the  station. 

Brown.  What!  That's  capital,  Paul;  how  did 
you  get  it  ? 

Paul.  There  was  a  carriage  full  of  them  gomg 
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AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

down  the  line;  I  was  lucky  to  get  one — swarms  of 
people  waiting  for  them. 

Brown.  What  do  I  owe  you  for  it .'' 

Paul.  Oh,  that's  all  right,  Mr.  Brown. 
[Exit  for  paper.] 

Brown.  Nonsense,  my  dear  Paul,  nonsense !  You 
bought  it  for  me,  and  I've  not  seen  a  paper  for  days. 

Geoffrey.  What  price  the  Goal  Post? 

Brown.  Ah  yes,  of  course.  Very  interesting  and 
all  that,  especially  for  you  younger  people.  But  I 
meant  a  paper  with  news  in  it — news  of  the  great 
world,  you  know. 

[Enter  Paul  with  paper.] 

Now,  Paul,  how  much  was  it } 

Paul.  Well,  I  got  it  for  two  shillings,  after  a  bit 
of  an  argument. 

Geoffrey.  What!    Really! 

Maggie.  Bravo! 

Brown.  Well,  I  must  say  I  think  the  Daily  Half- 
penny people  deserve  it.  They've  got  enterprise. 
How  they  get  the  news  with  which  they  fill  their 
paper  is  a  mystery  to  me. 

Geoffrey.  Is  it.? 

Paul.  They've  got  a  motor  service  all  over  Eng- 
land, I  believe. 

Geoffrey.  Don't  you  believe  it.    The  staff  sit 
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AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

in  the  cellar  and  read  it  off  the  gas-meter,  as  if  it 
were  a  tape-machine. 

Amy.  Well,  Dad,  get  a  move  on.  Tell  us  what 
the  great  world's  doing. 

Brown.  There's  a  leading  article  on  the  strike, 
which — er — quite  rightly  lays  the  blame,  and  ap- 
parently the  whole  blame,  on  the  idiotic  inertia  of 
the  present  Government. 

Geoffrey.  Pass  along,  please — pass  along. 

Brown.  Another  long  article  on  the  fog,  which 
seems — to — 

Amy.  Cut  the  fog.  Dad.     What  else  ? 

Brown.  Ah!  And  what  looks  like  a  most  inter- 
esting article  on  "The  Christmas  Festival — ^Ancient 
and  Modem.'* 

Geoffrey.  Can't  say  when  at  the  moment,  but 
I  fancy  I've  read  that  somewhere.  Does  it  begin, 
"Christmas  is  upon  us  once  more." 

[Reggie  picks  up  papers,  and  exit. 
Geoffrey  stops  speaking  a  second, 
watching  him  off.  Then  on  with 
speech.] 

"Christmas,  with  all  its  old  associations;  Christmas, 
with  its  universal  message  of  peace  and  good-will, 
etc.  ?" 

Brown.  No,  Geoffrey,  it  does  not.     It  says,  "The 
[25] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

superstition  that  a  hard  Christmas  was  heralded  by  a 
plenteous  display  of  the  red  fruit  of  the  holly-tree 
has  this  year  failed  to  deserve  the  respect  due  to  its 
age.  Although  the  winter  is  hard,  the  holly  berries 
are  slow  in  assuming  that  ruddy  hue  in  which  their 
clusters  look  most  attractive."  Now  that's  very 
prettily  put,  I  think. 

Geoffrey.  I  don't  think!  Give  me  the  other 
beginning. 

Amy.  I'd  rather  have  tne  two  shillings  than  either 
of  them. 

Ada.  What  would  you  do  with  two  shillings. 
Amy.? 

Paul.  Well,  Mr.  Brown,  I  must  be  going. 

Brown.  Where  are  you  gong  to,  Paul .? 

Paul.  Well,  I'm  going  to  shoot  on  the  ranges. 
But  I'm  afraid  there's  too  much  fog. 

Brown.  Perhaps  it's  clearer  down  there. 

Paul.  I'm  going  to  bike  over  and  see.  Rather  a 
general  nuisance,  isn't  it .?  What  do  you  think's  the 
reason  of  it .? 

Brown.  Of  the  fog,  you  mean  ? 

Paul.  Yes. 

Brown.  I  am  unable  to  say  exactly  what  are  the 
physical  causes  which  originally  gave  rise  to  it. 
But  I  do  state  that  its  duration  is  unprecedented, 

[26] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

and  that  something  ought  to  be  done — some  steps 
should  be  taken.  Had  the  present  Government 
only  met  the  difficulty  at  the  beginning  and  showed 
some  energy  and  consideration  for  the  public,  I 
venture  to  state  that — er — they — ^would — er — 

Geoffrey.  Have  you  put  the  wind  up  it — eh, 
Right  Honorable  ? 

Brown.  Perhaps  you  have  caught  my  meaning, 
Geoffrey,  and  expressed  it  in  your  own  way. 

Paul.  What  are  you  all  going  to  do,  eh.  Amy  .? 

Amy.  Looks  as  if  it  will  end  in  blind-man's-buff. 
But  what  we  want  to  do  if  it  clears  is — go  over  and 
see  the  Cup  Tie.  Ybu  come  with  us,  Paul,  and  keep 
the  crowd  in  order. 

Paul.  No,  thanks,  Amy.  If  it  clears  I  shall  go  to 
the  range  to  shoot. 

Geoffrey.  Well,  there's  a  way  to  spend  a  Bank 
Holiday.  Paul,  you're  a  mug.  Before  I'd  go  in 
for  that  silly  game,  I'd  break  stones. 

Paul.  Lucky  we  don't  all  think  the  same,  Geoff. 

Geoffrey.  Well,  what's  the  good  of  it,  anyway .? 
Fat  lot  of  good  you're  doing  to  yourself  or  any  one 
else — I  say  it  is  a  rotten  way  of  enjoying  yourself, 
and  as  far  as  the  use  you  are  to  the  country,  it's  not 
worth  the  price  of  the  escaped  convict  fancy  dress 
you're  wearing. 

[27] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Paul.  It  isn't  a  question  of  enjoyment.  Why 
should  you  always  think  of  enjoyment  ? 

Geoffrey.  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  I  work  hard  all 
day  and  every  day  in  a  stuffy  old  office — granted  f 

Paul.  Yes. 

Geoffrey.  Very  well,  then,  when  I  do  get  a 
holiday  I  think  I've  a  right  to  spend  it  how  I  like — 
in  amusement,  to  give  me  something  to  look  for- 
ward to. 

Paul.  So  do  I,  and  this  is  the  way  I  choose  to 
spend  it. 

Geoffrey.  Well,  I  call  it  a  rotten  way.  Where 
does  the  fun  come  in  ? 

Paul.  You  wouldn't  understand  it  if  I  told  you. 
Have  you  read  what  Lord  Roberts  says .? 

Geoffrey.  Bobs — bless  his  heart — not  much! 
I  know  what  he's  done,  that's  enough  for  me — ^you 
can  have  all  he  says.  Whenever  I  see  him  I'll  take 
my  hat  off  to  him,  and  I've  cheered  him  many  a  time 
— cheered  him  till  the  men  in  front  of  me  tore  bits  off 
their  shirts  to  put  in  their  ears.  But,  my  word,  they 
don't  report  him  in  the  papers  I  patronize.  They 
know  better — got  something  more  important  to  talk 
about.  Don't  you  think  I'm  nor  proud  of  the  old 
man,  'cos  I  am,  and  I  like  to  hear  what  he's  doing, 
but  no  speeches,  thank  you,  Bobs;  I'll  take 'em  as  read. 

[28] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Paul.  Well,  he's  not  the  only  one.  There's  a  lot 
of  others  who  say  the  same. 

Geoffrey.  Oh,  I  don't  mind  them.  What's 
their  record,  anyway  ?  What  have  they  done  ?  Are 
they  covered  with  the  blood  of  their  country's 
enemies  f 

Paul.  Lots  of  them  have  done  a  lot  for  their 
country. 

Geoffrey.  Oh,  have  they.?  Well,  let  them  tell 
us  how  they  spend  their  working-time.  How  many 
of  them  put  in  an  eight  hours'  day  on  an  office  stool 
looking  at  a  bit  of  blotting-paper,  or  staring  out  of 
a  dirty  window  when  the  only  thing  you  can  see  is  a 
blooming  advertisement  of  "Summer  Tours  to  the 
Land  of  the  Midnight  Sun."  Tell  me  that,  before  I 
listen  to  their  gas  about  it  being  every  Englishman's 
duty  to  give  up  all  his  spare  time  learning  to  defend 
his  country.  Let  me  know  how  they  spend  their 
work-time,  and  I'll — 

Paul.  Well,  we've  got  different  points  of  view, 
that's  all. 

Geoffrey.  Well,  yours  is  a  rotten  one  right 
enough.     What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Brown  ? 

Brown.  What  is  it,  Geoffrey  ? 

Geoffrey.  What  do  you  think  of  this  volunteer- 
ing business  ?     Don't  you  call  it  a  mug's  game  ? 

[29] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Brown.  One  moment,  please.  I  do  believe  Fve 
got  the  Jessop  spin  —  ah,  no!  Volunteering  ?  A 
mug's  game .?  Well,  perhaps  the  expression  is  too 
strong;  but  for  myself,  well,  I  fail  to  see  the  use  of 
it,  and  I  think  there  is  danger  in  it. 

Paul.  Surely,  Mr.  Brown,  that  oughtn't  to  deter 
any  one. 

Brown.  I  was  alluding  to  its  moral  danger. 

Geoffrey.  Of  course  he  was,  Paul;  he  was 
thinking  of  the  nurse-maids. 

Brown.  I  consider  it  has  a  tendency  to  convert 
the  people  of  England  to  militarism — a  condition  of 
slavery  which  our  country,  up  to  now,  has  escaped, 
and  I  trust  it  always  will. 

Paul.  But  do  you  call  it  slavery  to  defend  your 
country  ?     What  about  patriotism  ? 

Brown.  There  are  other  ways  of  showing  patriot- 
ism, Paul. 

Geoffrey.  I  should  think  there  were,  indeed! 
You  should  have  seen  me  on  Mafeking  night.  I 
sang  Rule,  Britannia!  on  top  of  the  fountain  in 
Trafalgar  Square — then  fell  into  the  water,  and 
kissed  the  policeman  who  pulled  me  out. 

Ada.  My  brother  smashed  a  new  hat  Mafeking 
night,  and  he  said  he  didn't  care  a bit. 

Brown.  Exactly.  I  am  thankful  to  say  there  is 
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AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

no  lack  of  patriotism.  The  heart  of  the  nation  is 
sound,  as  any  foreign  power  will  find  to  its  cost 
who  ventures  to  doubt  it.  As  to  defending  the 
country — the  country  is  in  no  danger  of  attack. 
The  British  fleet,  we  are  assured,  is  strong  enough  to 
render  invasion  impossible,  except  from  a  raid,  and 
if  the  raiders — well,  er — raided,  they  would,  I  am 
sure,  meet  with  a  most  uncomfortable  reception. 

Paul.  Who  from,  Mr.  Brown  .? 

Brown.  Who  from  ?  Why,  from  every  man  in 
the  country,  Paul.  There  is  not  an  Englishman  who 
wouldn't  at  once  fly  to  arms,  and  not  a  man  would 
escape  to — er — 

Geoffrey.  To  tell  the  tale. 

Brown.  Thank  you,  Geoffrey. 

Maggie.  How  does  one  fly  to  arms,  Dad  ? 

Brown.  That,  Maggie,  is  merely  a  figure  of 
speech,  meaning  that  every  man  would  immediately 
seize  a  weapon  and  stand  on  the  defensive. 

Maggie.  What  weapon  would  you  seize.  Dad .? 

Brow^n.  That  is  a  detail. 

Geoffrey.  I  always  sleep  with  a  brickbat  under 
my  pillow. 

Ada.  My  brother  has  got  one  of  those  air  pistols 
that  fire  darts  into  a  target. 

Paul.  Well,  I  think  every  one  ought  to  learn  dis- 
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AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

cipline  and  how  to  use  a  rifle,  and  then  he  might  be 
some  good  if  he  were  wanted.  Don't  you  agree 
with  me,  Maggie  ? 

Maggie.  I  don't  know,  Paul;  I'm  afraid  I've 
never  thought  of  it.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  uniform 
isn't  more  becoming. 

Paul.  That's  a  woman  all  over!  You  see,  the 
uniform  isn't  meant  to  attract. 

[During  scene  between  Maggie  and 
Paul,  Geoffrey,  Amy,  and  Ada 
whisper  together,  and  then  leave  the 
room  quietly.] 

Maggie.  No,  I  suppose  it's  made  to  repel. 

Paul.  Repel  what .? 

Maggie.  Why,  the  invader — I  mean. 

Paul.  Oh  yes,  of  course. 

Maggie.  Still,  the  invader  wouldn't  see  your  back, 
would  he,  Paul  ? 

Paul.  Rather  not! 

Maggie.  Then  there's  no  reason  why  it  shouldn't 
fit  a  little  better  across  the  shoulders — is  there  ? 

Paul.  If  I  spent  my  afternoons  at  football  matches, 
smoking  cigarettes,  and  shouting  myself  hoarse,  Mag- 
gie, would  you  think  any  better  of  me .? 

Maggie.  Well,  Paul,  first,  why  should  you  sup- 
pose I  think  of  you  at  all  ^ 

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AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Paul.  The  wish  was  father  to  the  thought. 

Maggie.  Then  you  want  me  to  think  of  you  ? 

Paul.  Yes. 

Maggie.  Then  I'll  try  hard. 

Paul.  Yes,  but  I  don't  want  it  to  be  an  effort — 
I  want  it  to  come  naturally. 

Maggie.  Well,  perhaps  it  will  if — 

Paul.  If  what? 

Maggie.  If  you  have  that  coat  taken  in  under  the 
arms. 

Brown.  I've  got  it — I've  got  it — I've  go —  .  .   . 
Damn! 

Syd.  Hello,  who  are  those  Johnnies  on  the  lawn  ? 

Brown.  What? 

Syd.  Can't  you  see  them  ?     Fellers  on  bicycles  in 
uniform — look  like  Volunteers.   Pals  of  Paul'sjl  expect. 

Brown.  Let  me  see. 

Syd.  Making  themselves  at  home  all  right,  read- 
ing a  newspaper  or  something. 

Brown.  What  infernal  impudence!  Hi — here, 
you,  sir!  Do  you  know  you've  no  right  there  ? 
This  is  private  property  you're  on;  that's  a  lawn 
you're  trampling  about — my  lawn.  Eh,  what  do 
you  say  ?  Just  come  here,  sir.  Come  here,  sir. 
[Enter  Soldier.] 

Soldier.  Yourpardon,sir,wehave  made  a  mistake. 
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AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Brown.  You  have,  sir!  You  have  no  business 
here.     This  is  a  private  ground  you  are  on. 

Paul.  Who  are  you  .? 

Soldier.  How  are  you,  comrade  ?  Will  you 
please  tell  me  the  name  ^ 

Brown.  The  name,  young  man,  was  on  the  gate, 
which  was  shut,  and  you  ought  to  know  the  meaning 
of  a  shut  gate.  It  means,  sir,  that  you  are  not  to 
open  it.     This  is  "Myrtle  Villa." 

Paul.  What  Corps  ? 

Soldier.  How  are  you,  comrade  ?  Ah,  then,  you 
are  Mr.  Brown  ? 

Brown.  Now  you  know  my  name,  perhaps  you'll 
kindly  leave  my  property.  I've  no  objections  to 
you  Volunteers  amusing  yourselves  in  your  own  way, 
but  you  mustn't  do  it  at  other  people's  expense. 
You  render  yourselves  liable  to  be  run  in  for  tres- 
pass. 

Soldier.  Thornton  Park  is  about  three  miles 
down  the  road  that  way — yes  ? 

Brown.  Ah — about  that,  I  believe. 

Soldier.  And  the  telegraph  wire  crosses  the  road 
and  goes  down  by  the  end  of  the  hill  ? 

Brown.  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  It's  not  working 
— ^what  do  you  want  with  it  ? 

Soldier.  To  destroy  it. 
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AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Brown.  Destroy  it?  Ah  yes;  pretend  to,  you 
mean. 

Soldier.  Yes,  of  course,  we  pretend  to. 

Brown.  Well,  silly  nonsense,  I  call  it. 

Soldier.  Thank  you;  that  is  all.  Good-morn- 
ing. 

Brown.  Good-morning,  young  man,  and  take  my 
advice  and  stick  to  the  road.  Remember  an  Eng- 
lishman's house  is  his  castle,  and — er — so  is  his 
garden. 

[Exit  Soldier,  laughing.] 

Syd.  Did  you  see  that  other  fellow .?  It  was  old 
Oxo. 

Brown.  Who  ? 

Syd.  Why,  the  man  who  used  to  be  at  Jenkins', 
the  hair-dresser;  cut  my  hair  scores  of  times — used 
to  put  shillings  on  for  me,  too.  He's  joined  the 
Volunteers.     Is  that  your  silly  old  corps,  Paul  ? 

Paul.  No,  I  don't  think  they  were  Volunteers; 
looked  to  me  more  like  Regulars. 

Syd.  Oh,  they  wouldn't  take  old  Oxo  on  as  a 
regular  soldier;  besides,  what  would  they  be  doing  ? 
There  they  go  down  the  road  to  the  left.  Fog  seems 
to  be  clearing. 

Paul.  So  I  think  it  is.  Well,  I  must  be  off  and 
see  if  there's  a  chance  of  seeing  the  targets;  perhaps 

[35] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOxME 

those   fellows   are   off  there,   too.     Good-bye,   Mr. 
Brown.     Good-bye,  Maggie. 

[Enter  Geoffrey,  Amy,  and  Ada.] 
[Comic    military    ballet   with    song. 
Soldiers  of  the  Queen.     They  march 
in  to  chorus.     Two  burlesque  words 
of   command    by    Geoffrey,    and 
then    form    tableau    facing    Paul: 
Geoffrey  standing;    Amy  in    atti- 
tude  of  defence    in   front  of   him, 
rifle  at  the  charge;   and  Ada,  with 
flag,  in  mock  heroic  attitude.] 
Geoffrey.  Courage,  my  lads;  steel  your  brave 
hearts;  yonder  stands  the  Invader.     He  has  dared 
to  scale  the  white  cliff's  of  old  England — ^you  can  see 
the  marks  of  the  cliff's  on  his  face.     Fear  him  not! 

Amy.  I  see  them,  my  noble  leader,  and  they  do 
not  blanch  my  stout  heart. 

Ada.  I  see  them,  too.     Pip!  pip! 
Geoffrey.  Fear   him   not — you    are    free    men. 
What  is  he  but  a  slave  ?     He  is  here  against  his  own 
judgment — he  has  been  dragooned  into  that  uniform 
by  force. 

Amy.  But  very  little  force  would  be  required  to 
let  him  drop  out  of  it.  I  see  the  button  that  keeps 
it  on. 

[36] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Ada.  Ha,  ha!     I  see  it,  too!     Pip!  pip! 
Geoffrey.  Under  that   richly  laced   coat  beats 
the  heart  of  a  slinger  of  hash.     But  you  cannot  hear 
it  beat — and  why  ? 

Amy.  Because  there  is  no  hash. 
Geoffrey.  Except  the  hash  he  has  made  of  it. 
Ada.  I  see  the  hash.     Pip!  pip! 
Geoffrey.  Dry    up,    Ada,    you    haven't    got    a 
speaking  part!     But,  my  brave  troops,  we  are  not 
afraid.     We  are  Englishmen,  we  are  three  to  one, 
and  we  have  the  wind  behind  us.     Charge! 

All  Three.  Hurrah!     Prepare   to   receive   your 
doom!     Fix  bayonets! 

[Geoffrey  takes  his  bayonet,  and 
tries  to  fix  it  on  the  rifle;  doesn't 
know  how.] 

[When  they  enter,  Geoffrey  has 
Paul's  hat  on,  belt,  and  bayonet, 
wears  the  dining-room  tablecloth,  a 
red  one,  as  a  cloak,  and  a  pair  of 
gardening  gloves;  two  huge  rolls  of 
paper  as  field  -  glasses.  AsfY,  tea 
cosey  on  head,  her  skirt  kilted,  small 
shaggy  hearthrug  as  sporran,  and 
the  rifle.  Ada,  long  dressing-gown, 
large  dish -cover  as  a  shield,  top  hat 
[37] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

and  feathers,  and  a  stair-rod  with  a 
toy  Union  Jack  on  it.] 
Geoffrey.  Prepare  to  receive  your  doom!     Fix 
bayonets!     It's  broken,  Paul,  it  won't  stay  on. 
Paul.  Oh,  do  stop  rotting. 

[Goes  for  his  hat.] 
Amy.  Only  over  my  dead  body,  Paul. 

[Paul  seizes  his  hat  and  exits.] 
[Geoffrey,  Amy,  and  Ada,  breath- 
less,   throw    themselves    into    arm- 
chairs and  laugh.] 
Reggie.  Can  you  suggest  anything  for  this  tele- 
gram competition.     Look  here  1     A  smart  lady  in  the 
West  End  has  ordered  a  new  dress  to  go  to  an  evening 
party  in;  on  the  afternoon  of  the  party  the  dress- 
maker sends  to  say  she  can't  have  the  new  dress  unless 
she  pays  for  it.     The  lady  hasn't  got  the  money,  but 
she  can't  go  to  the  party  without  the  dress.     But  her 
father  is  dying,  and,  she  expects,  will  leave  her  some 
money  in  a  day  or  two.     Send  a  wire  to  the  dress- 
maker, not  more  than  twelve  words,  explaining  the 
situation.     Now! 
Geoffrey.  "Father  is  rich. 

Health  isn't  hearty. 
Pay  when  he's  dead — 
Must  go  to  party." 
[38] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Ada.  I  don't  think  she  ought  to  be  going  to  a  party 
if  her  father's  dying. 

Amy.  You've  hit  the  weak  point  of  these  com- 
petitions, Ada.  I  shouldn't  wonder,  if  you  sent  up 
that  remark,  whether  they  wouldn't  stop  them  as 
giving  the  public  a  false  idea  as  to  the  callousness  of 
the  upper  classes. 

Reggie.  That's  not  bad,  Geoff,  but  it  doesn't 
seem  to  quite  bring  out  all  the  details. 

Geoffrey.  Oh,  but  a  telegram  never  does — you 
have  to  read  between  the  lines,  you  know.  No  tele- 
gram must  be  taken  literally. 

Amy.  When  Geoff  wires  to  his  bookmaker,  ''Five 
shillings  the  Hermit  both  ways,"  it  doesn't  mean 
that  he  backs  him  whether  he  goes  backward  or 
forward. 

Ada.  My  mother  got  fifteen  shillings  for  one  of 
those  competitions  last  month  in  the  Talk  of  the 
Tube — consolation  prize. 

Amy.  Yes;   your  mother  wants  that. 

Ada.  I  thought  hers  was  smarter  than  the  one 
that  got  the  first  prize — lady  from  Sydenham.  But 
father  said  mother's  wasn't  subtle  enough. 

Reggie.  Yes,  that's  it;  you  have  to  be  jolly  subtle. 

Ada.  Yes,  that's  what  father  says;  but  I  don't 
quite  see  what  it  means. 

[39] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Geoffrey.  Oh,  I'll  tell  you.  You've  got  to  mean 
about  a  dozen  different  things,  according  to  how  you 
read  it;  and  if  you  just  read  it  straight  off  as  it's 
written,  it  doesn't  mean  anything  at  all. 

Amy.  Well,  you  get  that  all  right,  as  a  rule,  Reggie. 

Syd.  Now  I  think  you  might  have  a  go  with  the 
small  cone.  Dad.  Don't  try  too  much;  just  feel  the 
strain  on  the  sticks;  if  you  try  and  spin  too  fast, 
you'll  spoil  your  style. 

Brown.  Right  you  are,  Syd.  Just  watch  my 
elbows,  will  you — see  they  don't  stick  out  too  far. 

Syd.  That's  not  bad,  Guv'nor — not  at  all  bad. 
Hi,  Geoffrey,  look  at  that!  That's  not  bad,  is  it, 
for  the  third  lesson  ? 

Geoffrey.  No,  it  isn't.  Try  and  put  a  little 
more  finger  work  into  it,  Mr.  Brown. 

Ada.  My  brother  can  run  it  up  the  stick. 

Amy.  My  dear  Ada,  your  brother  ought  to  be 
running  up  a  stick  himself. 

Geoffrey.  Grand  slam  to  Amy. 

Maggie.  I  say,  you  people,  look! — it's  getting 
much  clearer. 

Amy.  My  word,  so  it  is!  Geoff,  do  you  think 
they'll  play  ? 

Geoffrey.  If  they  can  see  two  hundred  yards, 
they  will;   they'd  never  disappoint  the  public. 

[40] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Ada.  Oh,  well,  let's  go — on  the  chance.  How 
shall  we  go — train  ? 

Geoffrey.  Well,  trains  are  mighty  uncertain 
these  times. 

Amy.  Oh,  don't  let's  run  any  risks;  let's  go  on 
bicycles.  It's  only  about  twelve  miles;  do  it  in  the 
hour. 

Syd.  Hardly.  It's  pretty  thick  still;  take  us 
every  bit  of  an  hour  and  a  half. 

Ada.  Well,  the  match  doesn't  start  till  two.  If 
we  leave  at  half-past  twelve — 

Geoffrey.  No,  that's  no  good;  we  want  to  be 
there  by  half-past  twelve  if  we  want  to  see  anything. 
There'll  be  a  big  crowd,  I  can  tell  you. 

Amy.  Look  here,  I  vote  we  start  at  once.  Take 
our  lunch,  and  eat  it  while  we're  waiting. 

Geoffrey.  Good  enough. 

Amy.  Maggie,  dear,  can  we  have  sandwiches  or 
something  to  take  with  us  ? 

Maggie.  Yes,  Amy;  how  many.?  You  four? 
You're  going,  Syd .'' 

Syd.  I  should  jolly  well  think  so.  Will  you  lend 
me  your  bike .? 

Maggie.  WTiy,  yes,  dear,  if  you're  careful  with 
it.  I'll  go  and  see  about  your  sandwiches.  What 
would  vou  like  f     There's  some  beef,  tongue,  ham — 

[41] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Geoffrey.  Well,  I  think  ham  is  bad  for  shouting 
— makes  the  lips  greasy. 

MAGGiE.Well,  potted  meat  and  some  plum-pudding. 
[Exit.] 

Geoffrey.  Plum-pudding,  indeed!  And  I  don't 
care  who  wins  the  boat-race. 

Ada.  But  that's  not  to-day,  GeofF. 

Amy.  No  wonder  your  hairpins  fall  out,  Ada — 
your  brain's  got  too  much  electricity  in  it. 

Brown.  Well,  I  won't  practise  any  more  till  this 
afternoon — might  get  stale. 

Amy.  Oh,  Geoff,  it  ought  to  be  a  ripping  game! 

Geoffrey.  Well,  it  may  be  a  near  thing.  Of 
course,  if  the  Wanderers  had  had  Sharkie  Long 
playing,  it  would  have  been  a  walk-over. 

Ada.  But  Simmonds  's  nearly  as  good,  who's 
taken  his  place. 

Amy.  No,  no!  he's  not  in  the  same  class,  Ada; 
he's  awfully  weak  on  his  left — isn't  he,  Geoff? 

Geoffrey.  Compared  to  Sharkie,  he  is  still;  but 
Simmonds  has  come  on  a  lot  this  season,  and  he's  got 
marvellous  judgment.  I  don't  know  that  any  back, 
with  the  exception  of  Sammy  Butterfield,  and  per- 
haps P.  M.  Lee,  who  places  more — 

Ada.  I  suppose  E.  C.  Halliday  is  all  right  again  ? 

Amy.  He's  all  right  and  playing,  and  that  sort  of 
[42] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

thing;  but  he's  not  in  condition,  and  that  weakens 
the  left  very  much.  I  don't  suppose  he'll  ever  be 
the  man  he  was  last  year. 

Geoffrey.  Perhaps  not.  Hard  luck  on  him, 
isn't  it  ?  After  only  two  seasons — don't  think  he's 
two-and-twenty  yet. 

[Enter  Maggie.] 

Maggie.  It's  all  right  about  your  sandwiches; 
they'll  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes. 

[All  cheer  and  laugh.] 

Sh!  Dad,  there  are  a  lot  more  of  your  Volunteer 
friends  in  the  garden. 

Brown.  What! 

Maggie.  I  told  them  to  go  away,  but  they  didn't 
seem  to  know  what  I  meant;  they're  all  round  the 
house,  in  fact — on  horses  this  time. 

Brown.  On  horses  in  my  garden! 

Maggie.  Yes;  in  the  drive,  too.  One  of  them 
rang  the  bell,  and  Jane  went  to  answer  it. 

Brown.  This  is  too  much!  I  rolled  that  drive 
yesterday!  I'll  go  and  give  them  a  bit  of  my  mind! 
It's  perfectly  shameful  that  these  people  shouldn't 
be  told  private  property  must  be  respected!  How 
can  they  expect  to  get  any  sympathy  when  they — 
[Enter   Captain    and    Lieutenant 

RiAN   HOBART.] 

[43] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Please  let  me  know  the  meaning  of  this  intrusion, 
sir — or,  rather,  let  me  tell  you  the  meaning  of  it!  I 
call  it  disgraceful,  sir — disgraceful! — that  no  notice 
is  taken  of  shut  gates!  Private  property  is  invaded 
— yes,  invaded  by  you  people  in  this  way!  I  shall 
report  it,  sir,  to  the  proper — proper  people!  And, 
moreover,  I  shall  write  to  the  papers,  complaining 
that,  as  a  citizen,  I  am  not  going  to  allow  it!  Kindly 
attempt  no  excuse,  sir;  I  insist  on  having  your  name, 
and  the  name  of  your  absurd  Corps — now,  sir! 

Prince.  I  am  Prince  Yoland,  Captain  in  the 
Black  Dragoons  of  Her  Imperial  Majesty  the  Em- 
press of  the  North ! 


END    OF    THE    FIRST    ACT 


THE    SECOND    ACT 


THE    SECOND    ACT 

Same  scene.  It  Is  early  next  morning,  about  an  hour 
before  daybreak.    Quite  dark  outside;  gas  alight. 

The  French  windows  are  open.  In  the  doorway  stands 
an  Orderly  with  his  back  to  the  stage,  looking  out.  He  is 
leaning  against  the  window-post;  his  rifle  leans  against  the 
wall  inside.  Lieutenant  Rian  Hobart,  tall,  slim,  fair,  with 
mustache  brushed  up,  lies  asleep  on  the  window-seat;  he 
has  taken  one  of  the  curtains  down  to  use  as  a  blanket,  in 
addition  to  his  greatcoat.  His  riding-boots,  very  muddy, 
are  lying  on  a  chair,  and  his  sword,  belts,  and  accoutrements 
are  leaning  against  the  piano.  The  round  table  has  been 
drawn  closer  to  the  fire,  the  fancy  tablecloth  swept  to  one 
edge,  pushing  vases,  photographs,  etc.,  all  into  a  bunch  at 
one  side;  some  of  the  articles  are  on  the  floor.  On  the  bare 
part  of  the  table  is  a  camp  coffee  equipage,  two  cups,  a 
paper  of  cheese,  biscuits,  and  a  sausage  or  two.  Captain 
Prince  Yoland  is  sitting  at  the  table,  facing  the  audience, 
writing  in  military  despatch-books.  He  has  a  file  of  mes- 
sages in  a  clip  on  an  elastic  band  by  him,  and  is  smoking 
a  cigar.  On  his  right  at  window  sits  a  soldier  with  field- 
telephone  and  message  -  book.     AH  the  soldiers  are  very 

[47] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

muddy  and  travel-stained.  A  large  fire  is  burning  in  the 
grate.  The  arm-chair  is  drawn  up  close  in  front  of  it, 
with  a  greatcoat  and  blanket  on  it,  which  have  the  appear- 
ance of  having  been  slept  in  by  the  Captain.  A  kettle 
is  on  the  fire;  outside  is  heard  at  intervals  the  noise  of  horses, 
saddled  up  and  picqueted,  throwing  up  their  heads.  The 
general  appearance  of  the  room  is  disreputable. 

Telephone  Orderly.  Hullo;    yes,  this  is  head- 
quarters,  B.   Squadron,   Black  Dragoons.     [Pause.] 
Yes,  I'm  ready.     To  Officer  commanding  B.  Squad- 
ron, Black  Dragoons:  Have  you  yet  received  report 
from  Telbeg —    Hovi^  do  you  spell  it .?     [Spelling  it.] 
Stop !  From  Intelligence  Officer  5th  Cavalry  Division. 
[Crosses  to  Captain.] 
Captain.  No.     I've  heard  nothing. 
[Orderly  returns.] 
[A    figure    approaches    the    French 
w^indovs^s  from  across  the  lawn.] 
Super  No.  i.  Sergeant  Thol! 

[Enter  Sergeant  Thol.  Stout,  griz- 
zled old  soldier,  w^ell  set  up,  and  very 
stiff  and  drilled  in  his  manner.  He 
marches  up  to  a  pace  or  tw^o  on 
right  of  Captain  and  salutes.] 
Captain.  Well? 

[48] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Sergeant  Thol.  Patrol  just  in,  sir. 

Captain.  Your  report.? 

Sergeant  Thol.  Left  him  at  midnight  with  six 
men;  moved  west  along  the  railway  to  Billericay, 
then  southwest  as  far  as  Thornton  Park — not  a  sign 
of  life  anywhere;  halted  within  a  mile  of  Brent- 
wood. 

Captain.  Yes,  yes.     Anything  going  on  there  ? 

Sergeant  Thol.  Yes,  Captain.  The  place  seem- 
ed to  be  in  an  uproar;  lights  everywhere,  and  we 
could  hear  a  lot  of  shouting  from  where  we  were. 

Captain.  Did  you  meet  the  man  I  told  you  of? 

Sergeant  Thol.  Yes,  Captain.  He  arrived  be- 
fore we'd  been  there  ten  minutes.  Came  straight 
from  the  town.  [Handing  paper.]  Here's  his  re- 
port, sir. 

Captain  [taking  report  and  reading  quickly 
through  it].  Did  he  say  anything  ? 

Sergeant  Thol.  Yes,  Captain.  He  said  he  was 
going  back  to  Brentwood,  and  would  see  how  things 
went  on,  and  he  would  get  another  report  off,  if 
anything  more  happened. 

Captain.  Did  he  say  that  it  was  safe  for  him  to 
go  back,  then  ? 

Sergeant  Thol.  Yes,  sir.  He  said  that  no  one 
paid  any  attention  to  him,  and  he  could  go  where 

[49] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

he  chose.     He  said  that  every  one  was  in  the  street 
singing  songs. 

Captain.  Right!     Anything  more  to  report? 

Sergeant  Thol.  Yes,  Captain.  On  the  way 
back  we  were  overtaken  by  two  men  on  bicycles. 
We  heard  them  coming.  They  ran  right  into  us. 
They  were  scouts. 

Captain.  How  did  you  know  ? 

Sergeant  Thol.  They  were  talking  loudly  to 
each  other. 

[Captain  chuckles.] 

Captain.  Yes.     Did  they  see  you  ? 

Sergeant  Thol.  Yes,  sir;  and  went  back  again  fast. 
I  couldn't  have  captured  them  without  firing,  and 
your  orders  were  not  to  fire  unless  it  was  necessary. 

Captain.  Were  they  in  uniform  ? 

Sergeant  Thol.  Yes,  sir;  in  khaki. 

Captain.  How  do  you  know .? 

Sergeant  Thol.  Saw  it  by  the  light  of  their 
lamps,  sir. 

[Captain  chuckles.] 

Captain.  Is  that  all  ? 

Sergeant  Thol.  Yes,  sir.  We  cut  all  the  wires 
along  the  line  on  our  yay  back. 

Captain.  Very  good!    That  will  do. 

Sergeant  Thol.  Off  saddle,  sir  ? 
[50] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Captain.  No;  ju3t  loosen  girths,  water,  and  feed. 
Sergeant  Thol.  Yes,  sir. 

[Salutes  and  exits.] 
_Captain  [across  to  telephone,  handing  report  to 
Telephone    Orderly].  Send    this    report    to    the 
Commandant. 

Telephone  Orderly  [picks  up  receiver].  Hullo! 
You  can't  telephone  it,  it's  in  cypher.  Who's  it 
from,  sir? 

[Looking  at  it.] 
Captain.  Lieutenant  Telbeg,  7th  Reserve  Regi- 
ment. [Back  to  table.  To  himself — looks  at  note- 
book.] Now,  who  was  he  ?  [Ticks.]  Ah,  Telbeg, 
7th  Reserve  Regiment,  employed  as  head -waiter. 
Royal  Hotel,  Brentwood.  Orderly!  Sergeant  Garth. 
[Tick — chains.] 

[Captain  rises,  goes  across  to  win- 
dow-seat, and  touches  Lieutenant 
RiAN  HoBART  on  the  shoulder,  wak- 
ing him  up.] 
Up  you  get,  Rian.     Things  will  be  moving  soon. 
Time  you  started.    Some  coffee  for  you  on  the  table. 
Lieutenant  [jumps  up,  stretches,  shakes  his  coat 
into  position,  puts  his  boots  on].  Any  news .? 

Captain  [going  in  front  of  table  to  fireplace]. 
Nothing  much. 

[51] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Lieutenant.  The  old  man  been  going  for  you 
again  ? 

Captain.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Lieutenant.  Why,  the  lord  of  this  castle. 

Captain.  No,  thank  goodness;  talked  himself  out 
yesterday,  I  should  hope.    Rude  old  man,  wasn't  he  .'' 

Lieutenant  [crossing  and  pouring  out  coffee]. 
Well,  I  suppose  he  was,  judging  by  his  manner.  I 
don't  profess  to  understand  English  enough  to  make 
out  all  the  kind  things  he  said  about  you. 

Captain.  Thought  I  should  have  to  tie  him  up 
at  one  time,  but  his  family  got  him  out  of  the  room 
just  before  my  patience  was  exhausted. 

[Enter  Sergeant  Garth.] 

Sergeant  Garth  [salutes].  You  want  me,  sir? 

Captain.  Horses  all  fed  ? 

Sergeant  Garth.  Yes,  sir. 

Captain.  Men  had  their  breakfasts  ? 

Sergeant  Garth.  Yes,  sir.  Got  all  they  could. 
There  wasn't  much  about. 

Captain.  Be  ready  to  move  at  five  minutes'  notice. 

Sergeant  Garth.  Yes,  sir. 

[Salutes  and  exits.] 

Lieutenant  [drinking  coffee].  I  see  this  report 
says  that  some  Volunteers,  or  something,  would  prob- 
ably leave  Brentwood  soon  after  this  was  sent. 

[52] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Captain.  Yes,  our  patrols  should  be  in  touch  with 
them  by  now. 

Lieutenant.  We  got  any  out .? 

Captain.  No;  ours  are  in.  Second  Squadron 
finding  some,  though. 

Lieutenant.  Shall  we  hold  on  here  at  all  ? 

Captain.  No;  probably  not,  I  should  say.  Got 
orders  to  be  ready  to  fall  back — northeast  on  to  right 
of  Second  Corps. 

Lieutenant.  Seems  we're  giving  up  rather  a 
good  position. 

[To    right    of    piano,    putting    on 
sword,  etc.] 

Captain.  Wouldn't  take  long  to  regain  it,  if 
wanted.  They  can't  bring  anything  big  as  far  east 
as  this  for  many  hours. 

Lieutenant.  Brentwood's  a  garrison  town,  isn't  it  ? 

Captain.  Yes — no;  there  are  barracks  at  Warley. 
Only  one  weak  battalion,  though,  going  abroad; 
two-thirds  of  'em  on  furlough.     Are  you  ready  ? 

Lieutenant.  Yes,  I  ordered  my  horse  to  be  kept 
saddled.     Is  my  party  ready  ^ 

Captain.  Yes.  Warned  'em  half  an  hour  ago — 
ten  men  and  a  corporal.     You  know  what  to  do  ? 

Lieutenant  [putting  on  helmet].  Yes,  perfectly! 

Captain.  We  sha'n't  be  here  much  longer.    When 
[53] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

you  retire,  you  know  the  line  we've  taken,  and  where 
to  find  us.     Off  you  go!     Don't  spare  your  horses. 

Lieutenant  [puts  coat  over  the  left  arm  and 
draws  himself  up,  clicks  heels,  salutes].  Very  good, 
sir. 

[Exits  by  French  window.] 
[Orderly  salutes  as  he  goes  out.] 
Captain  [going  toward  Telephone  Orderly]. 
That  gone  through  ? 
No.  I  Orderly.  Yes,  sir. 
Captain.  Any  answer .? 
Orderly.  Only  acknowledgment,  sir. 
[Horses  trotting.] 

[Enter  Geoffrey  under  guard  of  a 

soldier — No.  2  Super.     He  has  the 

look  of  having  slept  in  his  clothes.] 

Captain.  What  is  it .?    What  do  you  want .?    Oh 

yes,  I  know — ^you  wanted  to  see  me.     Well }     I'm 

afraid  you've  had  a  bad  night. 

Geoffrey.  Yes,  I  have.  Now,  look  here,  mister, 
what's  the  game  ? 

Captain.  I  don't  quite  understand  you.  Have 
you  any  complaint  to  make .? 

Geoffrey.  Have  I  any  complaint  to  make  ?   Not 
much — oh,  no !    I  like  that — ^why,  I've  got  a  cart-load ! 
Captain.  Well? 

[54] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Geoffrey.  Do  you  know  that  ever  since  you  came 
yesterday  IVe  been  in  the  scullery  ? 

Captain.  Yes. 

Geoffrey.  With  two  of  your  muddy  idiots  of 
men  sitting  there,  too! 

Captain.  Ah!  company  for  you! 

Geoffrey.  Company!  I'd  get  more  company 
out  of  a  dead  rat.  No  matter  what  I  said  to  them, 
they  just  sat  there  and  grunted — like  stuck  pigs. 

Captain.  They  don't  understand  English,  per- 
haps. 

Geoffrey.  They  don't;  and  lucky  for  them,  I 
can  tell  you,  if  they're  touchy  about  their  personal 
appearance.  That  wasn't  so  bad;  but  if  I  started 
out  to  leave  them  to  themselves,  they  just  stood  in 
front  of  me,  and  made  noises  like  a  gramophone  that 
can't  grip  the  record — and  there  I  was  kept. 

Captain  [to  chair].  It  was  by  my  orders. 

Geoffrey.  Oh,  was  it.?  Well,  what  I  want  to 
know  is,  what  right  you  had  to  give  those  orders  ? 
I  don't  know  what  you're  doing  here  and  I  don't 
care,  but  don't  you  imagine  we're  the  Girls  of  Gotten- 
berg  here.  And  if  you're  looking  for  a  six-round 
contest  with  the  British  Army,  you're  welcome,  but 
don't  mix  us  up  in  it.  I'm  a  private  citizen,  and 
you've  no  right  to  interfere  with  me! 

[55] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Captain.  When  I  came,  yesterday,  you  had  a 
rifle  in  your  hand. 

Geoffrey.  Well,  what  of  that .?  Perhaps  I'd 
been  having  a  pot  at  the  grouse. 

Captain.  Ah,  there  are  grouse  here  .?    Plentiful,  eh  ? 

Geoffrey.  You'd  hardly  believe  me — can't  get  to 
sleep  sometimes  for  the  noise  they  make  chirruping. 

Captain.  One  does  not  usually  shoot  grouse  with 
a  rifle — a  military  rifle. 

Geoffrey.  Ah,  perhaps  not  where  you  come  from 
— ^we  have  to  keep  'em  down  best  way  we  can.  Some 
use  poison.     I  prefer  a  rifle  myself,  it's  more  sporting. 

Captain.  You're  a  humorist,  Mr.  Smith. 

Geoffrey.  Hope  you  haven't  broken  anything 
finding  that  out. 

[Meets  Telephone  Orderly,  who 
hands  a  message  to  Captain,  who 
reads  it,  writes  an  answer,  while  he 
goes  on  talking  to  Geoffrey.] 

Captain.  Are  you  a  Volunteer .? 

Geoffrey.  Not  much — I'm  not!  I  tell  you  I'm 
a  harmless  citizen — a  looker-on,  one  of  the  crowd. 
And  I  want  to  get  away  from  here  and  get  a  good 
seat  for  the  circus. 

Captain.  As  one  of  the  crowd,  you'd  no  right  to 
have  a  rifle. 

[56] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Geoffrey.  Oh,  chuck  the  rifle!  I  tell  you,  it 
wasn't  mine.  I  shouldn't  know  how  to  make  the 
thing  go  ofF.  I  wish  I  did;  I  might  have  sent  you  to 
bed  for  a  week  or  two. 

Captain.  What  was  it  doing  here  ? 

Geoffrey.  It  was  left  'ere  by  a  pal  of  mine. 
He's  a  fire-eater,  one  of  the  old  Guard.  Lucky  for 
you  he  wasn't  here  when  you  came. 

Captain.  Where  is  he .? 

Geoffrey  How  should  I  know  ^  He's  gone,  and 
I  want  to  go  too.  I  tell  you,  I'm  quite  harmless.  If 
the  British  Army  returns  this  visit  of  ceremony, 
they'll  play  the  game.  They  won't  be  bullying  a  lot 
of  harmless  men  in  your  country. 

Captain  [dryly].  Perhaps    not.     But    then,    you 
see,  where  I  come  from  none  of  the  men  are  harm- 
less.    Now,  where  do  you  want  to  go  ? 
[Geoffrey  sits.] 

Geoffrey.  What's  that  matter  ?  I  tell  you,  I'm 
fed  up  with  the  scullery.  [Rises  suddenly.]  I  want 
to  go  somewhere  where  I  can  talk  to  some  one  who'll 
appreciate  me. 

[Flask  business.] 

[Telephone  Orderly  takes   mes- 
sage.] 

Captain.  Well,  I'm  really  sorry  I  had  to  incon- 
[57] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

venience  you — for  a  bit.  It  won't  be  for  much  longer 
now.  We  shall  be  leaving  here  immediately,  and 
then  you  can  go — where  you  like.  [Puts  on  coat.] 
In  the  mean  time,  if  you've  exhausted  the  pleasures 
of  the  scullery,  you  can  stay  here  if  you  like.  I  don't 
suppose  you're  dangerous,  eh  ? 
[Back  to  centre.] 

Geoffrey  [crosses].  I  sha'n't  go  off,  if  that's 
what  you  mean. 

Captain.  Orderly!    Sergeant  Garth. 

[No.  I  Orderly  salutes  and  exits.] 

Geoffrey.  I'm  sure  I  hope  you've  been  pretty 
comfortable  here. 

[Captain   puts   on    sword,   left   of 
piano.] 

Captain.  Quite,  thanks;  felt  quite  as  if  we  were 
at  home. 

Geoffrey.  Yes,  I  see;  made  the  place  look  like 
it  too  —  I  don't  think.  D'you  mind  if  I  smoke? 
I'll  try  and  not  let  the  ash  fall  on  the  carpet. 

Captain.  Ha!  ha! 

[Enter  Sergeant  Garth.     Salutes.] 

Sergeant  Garth.  You  wish  to  see  me,  sir  ? 

Captain.  We  march  at  once.     Any  men  out  ? 

Sergeant  Garth.  Only  those  with  the  Lieu- 
tenant. 

[58] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Captain.  Very  good.  Mount,  and  send  my  man 
for  my  kit. 

Sergeant  Garth.  Yes,  sir. 
[Salutes-7-going.] 

Captain.  Wait,  Sergeant.  Any  compensation  to 
pay  these  people  .? 

Sergeant  Garth.  You  mean  for  damage,  sir? 

Captain.  Yes.     Anything  broken,  destroyed  ? 

Sergeant  Garth.  No,  sir,  nothing  of  any  con- 
sequence. 

Captain.  Here  you,  he  says  nothing  has  been 
broken  of  any  consequence. 

[To  Geoffrey.] 

Geoffrey.  My  word !   You  should  see  the  kitchen ! 

Captain  [to  Sergeant].  What's  wrong  with  the 
kitchen  ? 

Sergeant  Garth.  Nothing  that  I  could  see. 
Had  to  use  it,  sir — no  fires  allowed  outside. 

Captain.  Bit  dirty,  I  expect.  You  can  wash  up 
later.  [To  Geoffrey.]  We  don't  compensate  for 
dirt. 

Geoffrey.  No,  you  wouldn't!  Jolly  kind  of  you 
not  to  expect  us  to  buy  it  off  you.  Still,  I  suppose 
you  won't  miss  it.  You're  generous,  though — ^the 
smell's  worth  eightpence  a  cubic  foot! 

Captain.  Any  stores  taken  ? 
[59] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Sergeant     Garth.  There     wasn't     much,     sir. 
But.  .  .  . 

Captain.  But   you    took   what   there   was.    All 
right,  what's  your  estimate  ? 

[Sergeant    Garth    hands    paper. 
Captain  reads.] 
Captain.  Yes,  that  makes  in  English  money  about 
thirty  shillings — say,  twenty-five  shillings. 
Geoffrey.  Store  prices  ? 

Captain.  Yes,  with  discount  for  cash.     That  will 
do.  Sergeant.     Orderly  ? 

[Orderly — No.  2  Super — turns  and 
salutes.] 
Tell  the  owner  of  this  house  to  come  here. 
Geoffrey.  Ugh!l  What's  that? 

[Exit  Orderly.] 
Captain.  I  have  sent  for  the  proprietor  of  the 
house. 

Geoffrey.  What  do  you  want  him  for  ? 

[Captain  dismisses  Telephone  Or- 
derly.    Enter  man  to  collect  Cap- 
tain's kit.] 
Captain.  Compensate   him — for   food   and    fuel. 
That's  our  rule — treat  the  public  well. 

Geoffrey.  Yes,    but    this    isn't    a    public.     I'd 
rather  you  did  it  than  me — he's  touchy. 

[60] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Captain.  That's  his  lookout — he  needn't  take  it. 

Geoffrey.  Well,  you  heard  him  yesterday  for  a 
bit,  before  you  cleared  the  court.  That  wasn't  bad, 
I  thought,  for  an  impromptu  after-breakfast  effort, 
was  it }  But  I  bet  it's  baby  talk  to  what  he's 
got  to  unload  after  a  night  in  his  room  thinking 
it  out. 

Captain.  I'm  getting  used  to  that  sort  of  thing. 
It  does  no  good.  I  prefer  your  way  of  taking  it — 
you're  a  philosopher! 

Geoffrey.  What's  that? 

Captain.  Any  one  who  makes  the  best  of  a  very 
bad  case. 

Geoffrey.  Perhaps  you're  right.  I'm  a  house- 
agent  by  profession. 

Captain.  Ha!  ha! 

[Enter  Maggie.] 

Maggie.  You  want  to  see  my  father — you  sent 
for  him .? 

Captain.  Your  pardon — er — lady.  Yes,  I  want 
to  see  your  father. 

Maggie.  Yes.  The  man  brought  me  the  mes- 
sage, and  I  have  come. 

Captain.  But  I  would  prefer  to  see  your  father. 

Maggie.  Please  let  me  do  instead!  My  father  is 
— isn't  able!     He  cannot  understand  .  .  . 

[6i] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Captain.  Not  understand  ? 

Maggie.  He  does  not  realize  the  situation.  He 
is  naturally  very  much  upset. 

Geoffrey.  Don't  you  understand  ?  I  told  you 
what  it  would  be!  His  steam-pressure's  reached  the 
limit,  and  the  sight  of  you  will  about  bust  the  boiler. 

Maggie.  Please  tell  me  ? 

Captain.  I  would  rather  have  explained  to  your 
— to  a  man.  My  men  have  used — have  taken 
food  and  fuel.  For  what  they  have  taken  I  wish 
to  pay. 

Maggie.  There  wasn't  much. 

Captain,  Perhaps  not,  but  they  took  something. 

Geoffrey.  They  took  all  there  jolly  well  was, 
and  there's  nothing  left  for  the  people  in  the  house, 
and  we  mayn't  go  out  and  get  any  more — so  there! 

Captain  [to  Maggie].  I  hope  the  men  were  not 
rough  ? 

Maggie.  They  were  not  gentle. 

Geoffrey.  You  bet!  They  don't  look  like  sick- 
nurses,  any  of  'em! 

Captain.  What  would  you .?  They  are  soldiers — 
hungry  soldiers,  and  they  must  have  food. 

Geoffrey.  Ho!  Don't  you  be  anxious  about 
'em,  Guv'nor! 

Maggie.  I  understand. 

[62] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 


Captain.  War  is  not  gentle,  and  we  are  making 
war.  j 

Geoffrey.  Yes,   but  we're  not;   that's  what   I 
complain  of! 

Maggie.  War  is  made  by  soldiers   on    soldiers. 
We  are  all  he'pless  here.     We  car^  do  nothing. 

Geoffrey.  No,  that's  what  I  say — ^we're  specta- 
tors.    Leave  us  alone  to  look  on,. 
Captain.  Well,  then,  you  must  pay  for  your  seat. 
Geoffrey.  Perhaps,   but  not    for  your  refresh- 
ments. 

Captain.  I  do  not  require  you  to.    Here  is  your 
payment. 

[Gives  order  form.] 
[Enter  Sergeant  Garth  and  exit.] 
Sergeant  Garth.  All  ready,  sir. 
Captain.  Right.     I  am  sorry,  lady,  that  even  so 
small  an  instance  of  the  realities  of  war  has  come  to 
your  notice.     And  I  am  sorrier   that  my  duty  has 
made  me  responsible  for  it.     You  are  now  at  liberty 
to  go  where  you  please.     Mr.  Smith,  you  can  now 
wash  up. 

[Clicks  his  heels,  s^ialutes,  and  exits.] 
[Outside j<oft.-u  woi^rjs  of  command: 
"^lepare  to  mount!       Mount!    Half- 
section!    Right!      W/alk!      March! 
[63] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Trot!"     Maggie  goes  to  the  window 
an^J  looks  out.     It  is  now  daylight, 
and  the  fog  is  clearer;  and  as  the 
scene  goes  on,  the  light  outside  gets 
brighter,   but   is   never   quite   clear, 
occasional  clouds  of  f^g  coming  on. 
No   one   turns   the   gas   out   in   the 
room,  and  the  gas-lights  look  pale 
an«d  give  the  room  a  still  more  dis- 
sipated look.] 
Geoffrey.  So  I'm  a  philosopher,  am  I  ?    A  man 
who  makes  the  best  of  things — puts  a  good  face  on 
'em!     Well,  my  friend,  I'd  like  to  put  a  good  face 
on  you — ^when  you  were   looking  the   other  way! 
I'd-  ; 

[Enter  Amy  followed  by  Ada,   the 
former    looking    bright    and    jolly; 
bu.t  Ada's  hair  is  a  mop,  and  she 
lociks  a  bit  bedraggled.] 
Amy.  Well,  Geoff — frightened  them  away.? 
Geoffrey.  Hullo,  Amy! 

Ada.  Have  they  gone — really  gone  ?  Will  they 
come  back  ?  I      • 

Geoffrey.  I  4  ""^oyAda.  If  you  go  and  wave 
your  handkerch'  ^^f  out  of  tne  turrC»  perhaps  they 
will.     But  donj  t  count  on  it!     Where's^L"  Guv'nor .? 

[64  J 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Amy.  Oh,  GeofF,  wasn't  Dad  funny  ?     I  thought  I 
should  burst! 

Ada.  Mr.  Brown  has  gone  to  find  a  policeman. 

Geoffrey.  What's  the  good  of  that  ? 

Amy.  Oh,  Dad's  just  wild!     I've  never  seen  him 
like  this  before.     He  says  it's  a  practical  joke! 

Geoffrey.  Does  he  .?    Well,  now,  I  wonder! 

Ada.  What  do  you  wonder  ? 

Geoffrey.  I  was  wondering — 

Ada.  Yes.? 

Geoffrey.  What  your  brother  would  think  of  it. 

Ada.  I  expect  he'd  have  known  what  to  make  of  it. 
He's  smart,  I  can  tell  you. 

Amy.  I  think  he  was  rather  nice-looking. 

Geoffrey.  Who  ? 

Amy.  Did  you  hear  him  say  he  was  a    prince, 
GeofF? 

Geoffrey.  Couldn't    say!     He's    not    like    the 
princes  I've  met. 

Ada  [picking  up  half  a  sausage].  What's  this  ? 

Geoffrey.  His  Royal  Highness'  breakfast.     And 
that  reminds  me :  Maggie  says  the  larder's  bare,  but 
we  might  find  something  to  cheer  us  up.    Anyway, 
I'm  going  to  look.     Come  along,  Amy. 
[Exits.] 

Amy.  There's  some  cheese  and  biscuits  up  in  my 
[65] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

room.     Jane  brought  'em  up  last  night.     Coming, 
Ada? 

[Amy  and  Ada  exit.] 
[Paul  appears  at  the  French  window. 
He  is  muddy  from  head  to  foot,  and 
dead  white  from  fatigue,  hunger,  etc. 
Maggie  starts  back  from  the  win- 
dow as  he  comes  in.  He  goes  past 
her,  and  sinks  on  to  window-seat 
without  speaking.] 
Maggie.  Paul!  Oh,  Paul,  what's  the  matter? 
What  does  it  all  mean  ? 

Paul  [quiet,  tired  voice].  Don't  you  know — ^what 
it  means  ? 

Maggie.  Yes, yes;  of  course  I  know  what  it  means 
— that  is,  I  think  I  do!     But  how — how  did  they  do 
it,  Paul  ? 
Paul.  What's  happened  here  ? 
Maggie.  They  came  yesterday.     They  didn't  do 
anything.     They    were    here — and — ^we    didn't    do 
anything.     We  didn't  see — ^we  never  went  out.     He 
wouldn't  let  us  go  out.     We  were  all  kept  in  our 
rooms — they  said  it  would  be  dangerous  for  us. 
Paul.  And  then  they  went  away  ? 
Maggie.  Yes,  they   went   away — now — just   this 
moment.    And,   Paul,  where  have  they  gone  to  ? 

[66]  .     . 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

They  did  nothing — and  will  they  come  back  ?  They 
said  they  were  coming  back!  I  couldn't  understand 
all  they  said.  Why,  what  are  they  doing  ?  What 
does  it  all  mean — ^what  will  they  do — tell  me  ? 

[During  this  speech  Maggie  has 
got  a  little  more  excited,  and  finishes 
it  down  by  Paul,  with  her  hand  beat- 
ing on  his  shoulder  as  he  sits  on 
window-seat  with  his  head  buried  in 
his  hands.] 
Paul.  They  are  coming  back;  yes,  they  will 
come  back! 

Maggie.  Why,  why  ?  And  where  have  they  gone 
to? 

Paul.  I  don't  know.  They  came  here  yesterday, 
and  I  saw  them.  I  saw  them  after  I  left  you — two 
or  three  of  them — and  I  heard  them  talking,  and 
couldn't  understand  what  they  said.  And  I  didn't 
know  what  they  could  be,  and  I  followed  them  in  the 
fog.  And  they  met  some  more — and  then  I  met 
some  more.  They  were  all  alike — and  then  they 
were  everywhere.  I  turned  up  lots  of  roads — and 
there  they  were, everywhere.  Sometimes  they  shout- 
ed at  me,  but  no  one  stopped  me.  And  I  went  on  to 
Brentwood,  and  the  fog  got  thicker,  and  when  I  got 
there  it  was  quite  dark!     I  found  they  knew  it — 

[67] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

every  one  there  knew  it.  Not  much — not  any  details; 
but  they  knew  they'd  landed  and  were  coming. 
Every  one  was  rushing  about,  talking  and  shouting, 
and  I  rode  about  to  find  some  one — some  one  to  tell 
what  I  had  seen — some  one  who  would  do  something. 
They  were  all  rushing  about  talking  and  shouting, 
and  I  couldn't  find  any  one  to  tell  me  what  to  do 
and  where  to  go,  and  I  went  backward  and  forward 
— here  and  there.  I  was  tired,  but  I  couldn't  stop! 
Then  I  rode  out  again  along  the  roads  to  see  what 
was  happening,  and  then  back — I  went  backward 
and  forward,  backward  and  forward — 

Maggie.  Yes,  Paul,  yes  ? 

Paul.  Then  they  shouted  that  all  the  Volunteers 
were  to  go  to  the  Town  Hall  and  assemble  there, 
and  I  went  and  waited  and  waited,  and  more  came, 
but  no  one  to  tell  us  anything,  and  I  couldn't  wait 
any  longer  and  do  nothing,  and  I  went  away  again. 
And  then  I  went  back,  and  there  were  more  there 
and  more  coming.  And  we  waited — oh,  for  hours, 
and  heaps  of  people  were  there,  singing  and  shout- 
ing, and  giving  us  drink.  But  no  one  to  give  us  any 
orders.  Every  one  was  ordering  diflFerent  things  at 
the  same  time,  and  we  fell  in  and  then  broke  off  and 
went  away  again,  and  back  again — and  at  last  some 
officers  came  out  of  the  Town  Hall,  and  one  of  them 

[68] 


AN   ENGLISHxMAN'S   HOME 

— I  don't  know  who  he  was — came  over  to  us  and 
began   talking,   and  we  were  told   to  wait  till  the 
ammunition  was  served  out. 
Maggie.  Yes! 

Paul.  And  he  said  he  wanted  some  on  bicycles  to 
go  out  and  reconnoitre,  and  I  had  a  bicycle  and  start- 
ed out  with  another  man.  And  we  went  off  in  the 
fog — it  was  very  dark,  and  we  came  on  some  of  them 
on  the  road,  and  they  shouted  to  us,  but  I  rode  away, 
and  then  I  didn't  know  where  the  other  man  was, 
and  I  waited  under  a  hedge,  but  didn't  see  them 
again.  And  then  I  rode  on  here.  I  was  told  to 
come — somewhere  about  here,  and  I  was  to  report — 
but  I  don't  know  where  or  who  to,  and  there's  noth- 
ing to  report, except  that  they've  gone  away  from  here, 
and  I  don't  know  where  they've  gone  to.  And  I 
ought  to  go  after  them,  I  suppose,  but  I  can't  go  on 
any  farther.  I'm  fairly  done  up,  I  am.  I  can't  go 
on  any  more,  and  I  don't  know  anything — nobody 
knows  anything — nobody! 

[During  this  speech,  which  he  begins 
quietly,  Paul  works  himself  up  to 
an  excited  state  and  walks  about. 
Then  from  fatigue  gets  hysterical, 
and  finally  sits  at  the  table  and 
sobs.] 

[69] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

[Toward    the    end    of    the    speech 
Geoffrey    comes    in.     He    carries 
some   drink — say,  half  a   bottle   of 
whiskey  and  some  soda-water.      He 
stands  and  listens  to  Paul.] 
Maggie.  Paul,  don't!     Oh,  don't! 
Paul.  They  can  only  shout  and  sing. 
Maggie.  There,  dear,  there!     It's  all  right,  and 
they've  gone  away,  and  you  must  rest — you're  so 
tired. 

Geoffrey.  I  say,  Paul,  old  man,  just  you  sit  still 
and  don't  worry  about  it. 

Maggie.  Yes,  and  you  must  have  something  to 
eat — if  we  can  find  it.  And  oh,  how  wet  and  dirty 
your  things  are!  You  must  take  them  all  off  and 
put  on  some  of  Reggie's. 

Geoffrey  [handing  him  some  whiskey].  There, 
old  chap!  This  is  what  you're  looking  for.  Isn't  it? 
Now  then,  buck  up,  and  don't  think  any  more 
about  it. 

[Sits.] 
Maggie.  Yes,    Paul,   don't   think    about   it   any 
more.     What  does  it  matter — to  us  ?    We'll  soon 
clean  the  house  up  again. 

Geoffrey.  Of  course  we  will,  and  will  have  a 
high  old  time.     I  expect  we  shall  see  some  fun,  but 

[70] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

it  ain't  our  job,  old  fellow.  Oh,  it'll  be  great — 
shouldn't  wonder  if  it  doesn't  mean  a  few  days  off 
at  the  office!     Have  another? 

[Enter  Amy   and   Ada  with   some 
odds  and  ends  of  food.] 

Amy.  I  say,  Geoff,  this  is  great!  Why,  there's 
Paul!  Oh,  Paul,  you  do  look  a  sight!  What  have 
you  been  doing? 

Geoffrey.  There,  don't  you  notice  him.  Amy; 
he's  been  making  a  night  of  it — a  fair  old  ricketty- 
racketty,  and  he's  just  dropped  in  for  a  pick-me-up. 

Amy.  And  he  must  have  wanted  picking  up  lots 
of  times.  Thought  you  were  a  real  soldier,  eh, 
Paul  ?  Now,  Geoff,  here's  a  picnic,  and  it  won't 
go  far  among  the  lot.  Luckily,  Paul  won't  have 
much  of  an  appetite.  Syd's  gone  out  to  try  and  get 
some  sardines  or  something.  We  must  boil  the 
kettle  in  here.  Why,  bless  me,  the  window's  open 
— and,  I  say,  Geoffrey,  the  fog's  cleared,  and  it's 
going  to  be  a  decent  day. 

Geoffrey.  Good  egg!  Come  along,  bustle  up, 
and  we'll  have  a  day  out  somehow.  Now  then,  Paul, 
get  away  and  find  some  decent  togs — something  not 
quite  so  conspicuous,  and  we'll  have  a  rare  old 
beano. 

Paul  [standing  up].  Are  you  all  mad  ?    Don't 
[71] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

any  of  you  understand  ?  How  can  you  stand  here 
and  laugh  and  joke  in  the  same  rotten  old  way  ? 
Why,  can't  you  understand  what's  happened — not 
even  you,  Maggie  ?  You  can  all  talk,  and  say  it's 
nothing  to  do  with  us,  that  it's  not  our  business,  and 
that  you  can  just  stay  here  and  amuse  yourselves, 
and  that  everything  is  going  on  in  the  same  old  way, 
and  all  you  can  think  of  it  is  that  you'll  get  a  few 
days  more  away  from  the  office!  Don't  you  realize 
it  yet — that  the  whole  damned  country  is  coming 
down  like  a  house  of  cards,  and  that  you,  and  thou- 
sands like  you,  are  saying  it's  not  your  business,  and 
as  long  as  it  doesn't  interfere  with  you,  let  it  go  on  ? 
And  others  are  just  the  same,  shouting  and  singing 
rotten  music  -  hall  songs,  and  thinking  they're  just 
going  to  see  some  fun!  Fun — oh,  my  God! 
Amy,  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Paul  ? 
Geoffrey.  What  ho,  old  man!  All  right,  Amy, 
of  course  it's  the  whiskey  on  an  empty  stomach. 

Ada.  Really,  Paul,  I  think  you  forget  where  you 
are. 

[Noise  and  shouting  heard  on  all 
sides  by  men  outside  and  inside  the 
house,  such  as,  "This  way!"  "Where 
are  you  going  to?"  "Here's  the 
place!"  "Which  is  the  way  in  ?" 
[72] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

"Where's  the  door  ?"  "Where's  the 
owner  ?"  "  Are  we  downhearted  ?" 
and  an  occasional  laugh.] 

Maggie.  They've  come  back! 

Geoffrey.  No;  that's  English! 

[Enter  quickly  at  French  windows 
two  Volunteers,  followed  by  a 
Captain  Finch,  and  two  more  men 
by  door,  shown  left.  The  Volun- 
teers are  mostly  dressed  in  uniform, 
one  or  two  of  them  incomplete,  some 
in  service  dress,  some  in  dress  uni- 
form. They  are  all  more  or  less 
excited,  and  during  the  whole  Vol- 
unteer scene  the  impression  of  lack 
of  discipline  is  apparent.  Every 
one  shows  keenness,  but  it  is  occa- 
sionally misdirected,  and  sometimes 
they  allow  their  attention  to  wander 
from  the  business  in  hand;  for 
example,  some  of  them  study  the 
photographs;  one  might  take  up 
the  diabolo  sticks,  and  try  a  spin; 
and  altogether,  while  all  show  that 
they  are  full  of  fight,  no  idea  of  the 
serious  side  of  the  business  in  hand 
[73] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

seems  to  strike  some  of  them. 
Captain  Finch  is  very  excited, 
fussy,  nervously  important,  not  being 
quite  sure  of  himself  and  his  powers 
of  command.  His  uniform  is  very 
correct.  He  has  sword,  whistle, 
haversack,  glasses,  compass,  revolver, 
etc.  Rather  stout,  lacking  in  dignity, 
and  has  a  beard.  He  has  every 
possible  thing  on.] 
Captain  Finch.  Are  you  the  owner  of  this  house .'' 

Where  is  he  ?     I  want  to  see  him. 
Maggie.  My  father  is  out. 

[Paul  is  now  quiet  again,  and  re- 
covered.    He   salutes.] 
Captain  Finch  [to  Paul].  Who  are  you .?    What 

are  you  doing  here  ^     Hang  it!     Where's  the  Color 

Sergeant .?  Where's  Mr.  Jackson  ? 
[Back  to  window.] 
[One  or  two  Volunteers  rush  in  at 
doors,  and  rush  out  again,  excited 
and  confused.  A  Corporal  is  at 
garden  door,  talking  heatedly,  en- 
deavoring to  gain  some  sort  of  order 
with  expressions  such  as,  "What  are 
you  standing  here  for  ?"  "Get  away 
[74] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

and  fall  in  outside."  "Come  along!" 
Outside  a  voice  is  heard  on  the  lawn, 
saying,  "Now,  fall  in  there — fall  in 
number!"  "As  you  were."  "Left 
dress."  "Where's  the  rest  of  the 
Company?"  "Stop  talking,  I  say!" 
"Will  you  stop  talking,"  etc.] 
[Captain  Finch  back.] 
Paul.  Fm  a  scout,  sir. 

Captain  Finch.  Scout — what  for.?  What  are 
you  doing  here .?  What  have  you  seen  ?  What  are 
your  orders .? 

[Enter  Volunteers.] 
Paul.  I  was  sent  along  the  road  to  see — 
Captain  Finch.  Yes,  yes — ^what  road? 
Paul.  The  road  from  Brentwood. 
Captain  Finch.  Oh,  never  mind  what  damned 
road  you  went  along!     Have  you  seen   anything? 
Where  are  the  enemy  ?     Surely  you've  got  eyes  in 
your  head  ? 

[Volunteers  in  the  room  are  sitting 
down.  Some  have  lit  cigarettes,  some 
looking  at  photographs,  and  showing 
curiosity  in  the  music,  books,  etc.] 
Paul.  Yes,  sir;  I  saw  several  of  the  enemy — 
scouting  parties,  I  think ! 

[75] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

[Volunteers  at  piano.     One-finger 

playing.     Three  at  window,  talking.] 

Captain  Finch.  Yes,    yes.     Where  ?     Oh,    will 

you  stop  that  noise  ?     How  can  I  hear  what  this  man 

is  saying  if  you  make  a  row  like  that?     Yes;  now 

tell  me,  where  did  you  see  them  ? 

Paul.  On  the  road,  sir. 

Captain  Finch.  My  good  man,  you've  said  that 
before!     Which  road  .? 

Paul.  Between  here  and  Brentwood. 
Captain  Finch.  What's  the  good  of  telling  me 
that  ?     That's  the  road  we've  come  along.     Where 
the  hell  is  that  Color  Sergeant .? 

[Exit    Paul,    to   find    Color    Ser- 
geant.] 
Can't  any  of  you  men  find  him,  instead  of — ? 

[Enter  Mr.  Jackson,  the  lieutenant. 
Tall,  thin,  very  young  boy  in   uni- 
form.] 
Captain  Finch.  Well,  Mr.  Jackson,  and  where 
have  you  been  ? 

[Geoffrey  to  fender.] 
Jackson.  Oh,  we  lost  the  way. 
Captain  Finch.  Lost  the  way? 

[Maggie  to  back  of  Amy's  chair.] 
Jackson.  Yes,    we    followed    B    Company    into 
[76] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

the  house  over  the  way — didn't  know  where  you'd 
gone  to. 

Captain  Finch.  If  you'd  been  in  your  proper 
place,  you'd  have  seen  which  way  I  came.  I  can't 
be  everywhere,  and  tell  every  single  man  where  he 
is  to  go!     Have  you  seen  the  Color  Sergeant  ? 

Jackson.  No,  sir,  he  wasn't  with  me. 

Captain  Finch.  And  where  are  your  men  ? 

Jackson.  I've  lost  some  of  them,  but  I've  got 
about  twenty  outside,  waiting. 

Captain  Finch.  Well,  for  goodness'  sake,  don't 
stand  talking  here,  but  get  to  work! 

Jackson.  Very  good,  sir;  but  what  do  you  want 
me  to  do  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Oh,  God!    You  know  as  well 
as  I  do  what  we've  got  to  do!     We're  to  hold  on 
here,  and  here's  what  you've  got  to  do! 
[Feeling  in  pockets.] 

Jackson.  Here!  [To  Men.]  Fall  in  outside 
there,  d'ye  hear.? 

[Volunteers  exit.] 

[Enter  Color  Sergeant  at  window. 

Stout  old  soldier — Regular.] 

Color  Sergeant.  You  want  me,  sir  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Want  you?  Of  course  I  do! 
Where  on  earth  have  you  been  hiding  yourself? 

[in 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Color  Sergeant.  I've  been  outside,  sir,  getting 
the  men  together.     They  are  all  over  the  place. 

Captain  Finch.  Well,  you'd  no  business  to  let 
'em  get  all  over  the  place!  Have  you  got  them  all 
together,  now .'' 

Color  Sergeant.  Pretty  well,  sir.  There  are 
some  stragglers  to  come  in  yet. 

Captain  Finch.  Oh,  damn!  Never  mind,  we 
can't  wait  for  them  now — we  must  get  a  move  on. 
Now,  here's  what  we've  got  to  do! 

[Feels  in  pockets  again.] 

[Enter  Corporal    through  window 

— ^No.  5  Super.] 

Corporal.  Is  the  Captain  here? 

Captain  Finch.  Well,  what  is  it  ? 

Corporal.  Please,  sir,  there's  a  man  taken  very 
bad. 

Captain  Finch.  Taken  bad .?  What  do  you 
mean  ?     What's  the  matter  with  him  ^ 

Corporal.  I  don't  know,  sir.     He's  feeling  sick. 

Captain  Finch.  Oh,  well,  ah — hang  it  all,  I 
can't  do  anything!  What  do  you  come  to  me 
for? 

Corporal.  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  him, 
sir. 

Captain  Finch.  Oh,  let  him  lie  down. 
[78] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Corporal.  He  is  lying  down,  sir.  He  can't  get 
up. 

Geoffrey.  Sit  on  his  head. 

Captain  Finch.  Yes — no.  Well,  carry  him  in 
here.     No,  take  him  into  the  kitchen. 

Geoffrey  [with  meaning].  Kitchen!  He  won't  lie 
down  there. 

Captain  Finch.  Do  something — do  anything,  only 
don't  bother  me! 

[Exit  Corporal.] 

[Color    Sergeant    moves    up    to 

window,] 

I've  got  too  much  to  do!  Now,  Color  Sergeant, 
where  are  you  going  ? 

Color  Sergeant.  I  thought  I'd  better  see  after 
him,  sir. 

Captain  Finch.  You  just  stop  here  while  I  tell 
you  what  to  do.  Now,  this  is  our  post — our  position 
— ^you  understand  ? 

Color  Sergeant  [comes  back.]  Yes,  sir.  We 
stop  here. 

[Two  Volunteers  at  window.] 

Captain  Finch.  And  we're  to  take  up  this  posi- 
tion. Where  the  devil  is  my  note-book  ?  [Crosses 
to  table;  searches  pockets  and  haversack,  produces 
from  latter  a  flask,  gloves,  bottle  of  soda-water,  large 

[79] 


AN  ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

packet  of  sandwiches,  map,  etc.,  and  finally  note- 
book.]   Now,  pay  attention! 

[The  Color  Sergeant  has  gone  to 
the  door  to  say  something  to  an  ex- 
cited Volunteer  at  window.] 
Color  Sergeant,  will  you  come  here  and  listen 
to  me  ? 
Color  Sergeant.  Right,  sir. 

[To  Volunteers.] 
Take  his  boots  off  and  pour  some  water  over  him. 

Captain  Finch.  Now,  here  it  is.  Here  are  the 
orders!  [Sits;  reads.]  "The  enemy's  men  are  some- 
where about — about" — oh,  well,  never  mind. 

[Enter  Volunteer  at  door — ^No.  6 
Super.] 
Volunteer.  Mr.  Jackson! 

Captain  Finch.  Yes;  what  do  you  want  with  him  .? 
Volunteer.  Please,  sir,  what  are  the  men  out- 
side to  do? 

Jackson.  Wait  for  me.  I'll  come  out  in  a 
minute. 

Volunteer.  Well,  sir,  they  all  seem  rather  tired 
of  waiting.  Some  of  them  are  going  away  to  see 
what's  happening. 

Jackson.  Look  here,  I'll  go  out  to  them  in  a 
minute. 

[80] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Captain  Finch.  Just  go  back  and  tell  them  Mr. 
Jackson  will  be  out  in  a  minute. 
[Exit  Volunteer.] 

[Reads].  "The  force  under  Colonel  Trollope  will 
advance  Wickham  and  occupy  it.'*  There  was  a 
lot  more  which  I  didn't  get  down.  There — um — um 
— something  else.  Oh,  see,  here  it  is!  "Three 
Companies  3  V.B.E.  will  be  on  the  extreme  left  of 
the  town."  There,  you  see — that's  us.  This  is  the 
extreme  left,  and  this  Company  has  got  to  hold  on 
to  this  house.     Do  you  understand,  Jackson  ? 

Jackson.  Yes. 

Color  Sergeant.  Hold  on  to  the  house,  sir.? 
Yes,  sir,  make  a  defensive  position  of  it,  sir. 

Captain  Finch.  Of  course,  I've  got  that  written 
down.  [Reads.]  "Each  Company  will  strengthen 
its  own  position,  and  buildings  and  walls,  etc.,  to  be 
put  in  a  state  of  defence." 

Jackson.  Yes,  I  see.     What  shall  I  do  to  them  .? 

Captain  Finch.  Do  ?  Why,  God  bless  my  soul, 
you  know  —  you  —  er — ^you  — why,  you  make  de- 
fences. 

Color  Sergeant.  May  I  suggest,  sir? 

Captain  Finch.  Well,  what  is  it? 

Color  Sergeant.  That  Lieutenant  Jackson  take 
the  upper  story  with  his  men,  sir;  that  you,  sir,  take 

[81] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

the  ground  floor;   and  I  will  take  the  outside  of  the 
house,  the  garden,  sir,  with  No.  4  Section. 

Captain  Finch.  That's  a  very  good  suggestion. 
Color  Sergeant!  Now,  you  understand  that,  Jack- 
son .?  Take  your  men  up-stairs,  and  put  the  top 
story  to  a  state  of  defence! 

Jackson  [going].  Yes,  I  see.  [Stops.]  Shall  I 
put  all  the  furniture  against  the  door — that  sort  of 
thing  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Yes,  yes!  You  know!  The 
usual  thing.  It's  all  in  the  book.  You  tell  him. 
Color  Sergeant. 

Color  Sergeant  [like  a  parrot].  "Knock  out  all 
glass  from  windows,  blind  windows  with  mattresses, 
bales,  carpets — make  loopholes  four  feet  six  inches 
from  ground  line,  arrange  for  supply  of  water  for 
garrison,  and  earth  for  putting  out  fires." 

Captain  Finch.  There,  then,  you   know   it  all. 
Get  along,  for  goodness'  sake,  and  get  something  done ! 
[Exit  Mr.  Jackson,  looking  doubt- 
ful of  his  powers.] 
[Enter  Paul,  window.] 

Now,  Color  Sergeant,  send  me  some  men. 

Color  Sergeant.  Yes,  sir — how  many,  sir  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Oh,  a  Section!  Well,  perhaps 
twelve  will  do — or  ten.     No — say  half  a  dozen! 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Color  Sergeant.  Half  a  dozen!    Very  good,  sir. 

[Going.] 
Captain  Finch  [rises].  Oh,  and  Color  Sergeant  ? 
Color  Sergeant.  Yes,  sir  ? 
Captain  Finch.  Come   back   here   the   moment 
you've  told  your  men  what  to  do — see  ? 
Color  Sergeant.  Yes,  sir. 
Captain  Finch.  Fm  not  going  to  have  you  slop- 
ing off  again! 

[Exit  Color  Sergeant.] 
Paul  [comes  down].  What  shall  I  do,  sir  ? 
Captain  Finch.  You — ^what  are  you  ?    Why  are 
you  here  ? 

[Enter  Jackson.] 
Jackson.  How  many  men  shall  I  put  in  each  room  ? 
Captain  Finch.  Oh,  only  a  few. 

[Enter  six  Volunteers   at  garden 

door.] 
Jackson.  A  few }    What  do  you  mean  by  a  few  ? 
Captain  Finch.  Why,  two  or  three. 

[Up  stage,  back  to  audience.] 
Jackson.  All  right. 

[Exit.] 
Captain  Finch.  Now  then,  you  men,  just  put 
this  room  in  a  state  of  defence. 

[Jackson  re-enters.] 
[83] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Jackson.  I  say,  would  you  put  two  or  three — 

Captain  Finch.  Oh,   hell!     Why,   put   two   in 
small  rooms  and  three  in  the  large  rooms. 
[Exit  Jackson.] 

[Double    cross.     Finch    up    stage; 
Paul  down  stage.] 

[To  men  in  room.]  Now,  look  here,  first  thing 
you've  got  to  do  is — 

[Enter  Color  Sergeant.] 

Color  Sergeant.  Please,  sir,  which  is  our 
front  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Our  front  ? 

Color  Sergeant.  Yes,  sir;  which  is  the  direction 
of  the  enemy  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Why,  surely  you  know  that  ? 
We've  to  face  east — that  is,  why  [doubtfully  point- 
ing in  a  half-circle],  over  there.  [To  Paul.]  Here, 
you  know  where  the  enemy  are,  don't  you  ? 

Paul.  No,  sir;  not  now.  They  were  here  less 
than  an  hour  ago. 

Captain  Finch.  Here  less  than  an  hour  ago  ? 
Why  the  blazes  didn't  you  tell  me  that  before  .?  They 
can't  be  far  off,  and  here  you  all  stand  doing  noth- 
ing. Where  are  they  now,  eh  ?  Which  way  did 
they  go  ? 

Paul.  I  don't  know. 

[84] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Captain  Finch.  You  don't  know!  You  saw 
them  here,  and  don't  know  which  way  they  went  ? 

Maggie.  They  went  off,  and   started   along  the 
road  to — 
Captain  Finch.  Yes,  yes  ? 
Maggie.  They  went  away  trotting,  and  seemed 
in  a  hurry. 
Captain  Finch.  Which  direction  ? 
Maggie.  Over  there.     [Points.] 
Captain  Finch.  Of  course.    There,  that  is  the 
direction   of  the   enemy.     That's  your  front— see. 
Color  Sergeant — that! 

[Makes  a  sweep  with  his  arm.] 
Color  Sergeant.  I  see,  sir — ^with  the  flank  thrown 
back  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Of  course  with  the  flank  thrown 
back!  Exactly,  with  the  tank  thrown  flat — the 
tank  blown — oh,  damn! 

Color  Sergeant.  Very  good,  sir. 
[Exit.] 

[At  this  moment  considerable  noise 
heard  off",  upstairs.  Noise  of  break- 
ing glass  falling  and  furniture  being 
moved  about,  mingled  with  angry 
shouts  of  expostulation.] 
Captain  Finch.  And  look  here.  Color  Sergeant, 
7  [85] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

look  sharp  about  coming  back.  I  shall  want  you. 
[To  his  men.]  Now,  you  men,  why  the  blazes  don't 
you  set  to  work  ? 

[Paul  exits  with  two  men.] 

Volunteer.  Yes,  sir;  what  shall  we  do  .? 

Captain  Finch.  Get  all  the  furniture  piled  up 
this  side  of  the  room. 

[Two  Volunteers  move  piano  down 
to  window.  Two  Volunteers  move 
sofa  up  to  window-seat.] 

[To  Geoffrey.]  I  must  ask  you  and  these  ladies 
to  leave  the  room.  You  will  be  in  the  way,  and  will 
be  very — er — uncomfortable  here. 

Amy.  Nonsense;   it's  our  house! 

Geoffrey.  That's  all  rot,  you  know.  We  shall 
be  just  as  comfortable  here  as  in  any  other  part  of 
the  castle,  as  far  as  I  can  see.  Even  the  eastern 
turret  seems  a  bit  upset,  and,  mark  you,  I'm  not 
going  back  to  the  dungeon — I  should  say,  the 
scullery!  We  want  to  see  all  the  fun,  and  there'll 
be  some  in  a  minute. 

Ada.  I  hope  you'll  put  all  this  furniture  back  in 
its  position ! 

Captain  Finch.  Now,  some  of  you  others,  don't 
stand  gaping  there!  Just  push  the  glass  out  of  the 
windows. 

[86] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Volunteer.  What  with,  sir? 

Another  Volunteer.  That's  easy  work. 

[Bang  the  butts  of  their  rifles  through 
the  window.] 

[Others  do  the  same,  and  then  the 
others  set  to  work,  some  moving 
the  piano,  table,  etc.,  over  toward 
window -seat.  Enter  Paul  and 
Two  Volunteers  with  mattresses. 
Shouts  outside  from  Mr.  Brown.] 

Brown  [outside,  shouts].  Where  is  he  ?    Who's 
responsible  for  this  tomfoolery  ,? 

[Enter  Mr.  Brown,  just  purple  and 
spitting  with  rage  in  the  middle  of 
the  room.] 

[Yells].  Stop! 

[For  an  instant  everybody  stops, 
and  while  he  goes  on  speak- 
ing gradually  go  on  with  their 
work.] 

Who  is  responsible  for  this  ?    Who  is  the  leader 
of  this — this  band  .? 

Captain  Finch.  I  command  here. 

Brown.  You  ?    Who  are  you  ?    You  burglar! 

Captain  Finch.  I  am  Captain  Finch. 

Brown.  What  right  have  you  got  to  come  into  a 
[87] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

private  house  and  destroy  it  ?    What  right  have  you 
got  to  come  in  at  all  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Those  were  my  orders. 

Brown.  Orders?  You — orders  in  my  house !  Is 
this  a  mad-house  broken  loose  ?  Stop  all  this  at 
once,  sir,  put  the  furniture  back  in  its  place,  and 
leave  the  house! 

Captain  Finch.  But — my  orders? 

Brown.  Those  are  my  orders — the  orders  of  the 
only  man  who  has  any  right  to  give  them  in  this  house. 

Captain  Finch.  But  I  must  defend  the  house. 

Brown.  Nonsense,  sir!  Stop  your  men  at  once, 
do  you  hear  ?  And  put  the  things  where  you  found 
them!  If  you  must  play  this  absurd  and  foolish 
game,  go  outside  and  do  it  in  the  middle  of  the  road ! 
Why,  hang  it,  sir,  you're  as  bad  as  those  masquer- 
ading ruffians  who  were  here  last  night! 

Captain  Finch.  God  bless  my  soul,  but  those  are 
the  enemy! 

Brown.  Then,  sir,  why  the  devil  don't  you  go 
after  them,  instead  of — instead  of — housebreaking 
here  ?  Once  for  all,  I  won't  have  it,  and  out  you 
go!  And  if  you've  come  here  to  find  those  scoundrels 
who  invaded  my  privacy  last  night — 

[Paul  crosses  from  top  window  to 
bottom.] 

[88] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

— talking  some  incomprehensible  language,  and  not 
understanding  the  plain  English  I  gave  them — if 
you're  looking  for  them — in  the  name  of  common- 
sense,  go  and  look  for  them  where  they're  likely 
to  be  found!  I  won't  have  you  here!  I'm  a  tax- 
payer and  a  citizen,  and  I  will  not  have  this  non- 
sense ! 

Captain  Finch  [who,  during  the  last  speech  of 
Brown,  has  been  trying  to  interrupt,  at  last  loses 
his  temper].  Damn  it,  sir — 

Brown.  Don't  swear  at  me,  sir. 
Captain  Finch.  I    tell    you,   the    enemy  —  the 
enemy's   army  —  may  be  here,  sir  —  here   at   any 
moment! 

Brown.  Well,  sir,  what  of  that  ?  Is  that  any 
reason  why  my  house  should  be  turned  into  a  tea- 
garden — I  should  say,  a  bear-garden  ?  I'm  not 
afraid.     So  now,  perhaps — 

[A  few  distant  shots  are  heard  dur- 
ing this  speech.  Color  Sergeant 
comes  in  from  garden,  quite  cool  and 
collected,  and  reports.] 
Color  Sergeant.  They're  firing  in  our  front, 
sir. 

[At  the  same  time  Jackson  rushes  in, 
wildly  excited,  but  hugely  pleased]. 
[89] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Jackson  [shouts].  I  say,  they've  kicked  off  over 
there! 

[At  this  the  Captain  rushes  about, 
placing  the  men — here  and  there — 
at  the  v^indows.  No  one  quite 
knows  where  to  go,  but  all  stand 
boldly  at  open  windows,  and  Brown 
stands  addressing  a  non-interested 
crowd.  At  the  signs  of  something 
really  happening  his  talk  gets  slower, 
and  his  voice  drops  and  he  remains 
alone.  The  girls  remain  close  to 
the  fireplace  with  Syd,  who  came  in 
after  Brown.  Geoffrey,  full  of 
interest,  as  he  would  be  looking  on 
at  a  football  match,  is  standing  on 
a  table  to  get  a  good  view  out  of  the 
windows,  over  the  heads  of  the  men 
defending  it.] 
Captain  Finch,  [looking  out  of  all  windows]. 
Now,  then,  keep  a  good  lookout;  if  you  see  any- 
thing, fire  at  it. 

[Volunteers  load.] 
What  is  that  ? 

[Present.] 
No,  don't  fire;  it's  one  of  our  own! 
[90] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

[There  is  a  moment's  absolute  quiet, 
with  a  faint  noise  of  distant  firing, 
when  the  swish  of  a  bullet  coming  in 
through  the  window  is  heard,  and 
the  noise  of  a  body  being  hit — a 
noise  like  a  racket-ball  hit  against 
clay — and  a  crash.  Geoffrey  just 
falls,  quietly  and  limply,  shot  through 
the  heart,  and  small  statuet  over 
mantelpiece  falls — broken.] 


END    OF   THE    SECOND    ACT 


THE    THIRD    ACT 


THE    THIRD    ACT 

Same  scene,  one  hour  later.  The  room  is  a  little  more 
knocked  about — some  splinters  out  of  piano  and  window- 
frames.  It  has  been  under  distant  shell  fire.  Window 
openings  toward  enemy  have  been  barricaded  and  strength- 
ened with  mattresses,  rolls  of  carpets,  rugs,  and  matting. 
There  is  a  smell  of  gunpowder.  When  curtain  rises,  old 
Brown  is  on  hearthrug,  back  to  fire.  A  wounded  man  is 
by  bookcase;  Maggie  is  kneeling  at  his  head,  arranging 
cushions;  Paul  behind  her,  helping.  Four  Volunteers 
are  at  window,  looking  out.  Amy,  crouching  by  fireplace, 
quietly  crying.  When  curtain  is  right  up,  noise  and  flash 
of  bursting  shell  outside.  Maroon,  followed  by  distant 
artillery  fire  at  intervals.  Boom  and  pom-pom.  This 
continues  through  Act,  but  is  stopped  just  before  a  shell 
passes  over  or  where  there  is  a  maroon.  Amy  gives  a  slight 
scream — like  a  hiccough — and  puts  her  hands  to  her  ears. 

Brown.  Damn  them! 

First  Volunteer.  Fairly  got  the  range — now. 
Second  Volunteer.  One-sided  sort  of  game,  I 
call  this. 

[95] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Paul.  Maggie,  I  do  wish  you'd  go. 

Maggie.  Where  do  you  want  me  to  go  to  ? 

Paul.  Anywhere  out  of  this.  It's  safest  in  the 
hall;  nothing  could  touch  you  there,  and  you  could 
sit  there  till  it's  over. 

Maggie.  What  should  I  do  all  alone  there  in  the 
hall — just  sit  there  and  shudder .? 

Paul.  But  you'd  be  safer. 

Maggie.  No,  Paul,  I  couldn't  stand  it.  I'd 
rather  stay  here  and  do  something.  [Bends  over 
wounded  man.]     Amy!     [Louder]  Amy! 

Amy  [jerks  out  a  high-pitched  hysterical]  Yes! 

Maggie.  Go  and  get  me  some  water. 

Amy  [frightened,  and  speaks  in  a  sort  of  shud- 
dering way,  but  totters  about  doing  all  that  she 
is  told  to  do].  Water — yes,  water.  [Totters  slowly 
and  feebly  to  the  door.]  What  shall  I  bring 
it  in  ? 

Maggie.  A  jug,  and  bring  a  glass. 

Amy.  Water — in  a  jug;  and  a  glass. 
[Exits.] 

[Enter  Captain  Finch  through  cen- 
tre window.  He  is  still  very  fussy 
and  excited,  irritable,  etc.] 

Captain  Finch.  Two  more  men  hit  out  there — 
curse  these  fellows!     Why  don't  they  come  closer 

[96] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

and  let  us  have  a  go  at  them  ?     [Sees  wounded  man.] 
Hullo,  what's  this  ? 

Paul.  Hit  in  the  chest,  sir — shrapnel  bullet — 
about  ten  minutes  ago. 

Captain  Finch.  Who  is  it.''  What's  his  name, 
eh  ^     Can't  you  tell  me  what  his  name  is  ? 

Paul.  I  don't  know  him,  sir — ^never  seen  him 
before  to-day. 

Third  Volunteer  [at  down-stage  window].  I 
think  it's  a  man  named  Green,  sir. 

Captain  Finch.  Is  he  in   my  Company .? 

Maggie.  Yes;  his  name  is  Green,  and  he's  in  your 
Company. 

Paul.  I'm  afraid  it's  pretty  serious. 

Captain  Finch.  Can't  we  do  anything  for  him  ? 
What's  the  good  of  this .?  Isn't  there  a  doctor  or 
something  here — anywhere  ? 

Paul.  I  don't  know. 

Captain  Finch.  There  was  one,  I  know;  I  heard 
them  shouting  for  him  when  we  were  leaving  Brent- 
wood. But  I  don't  know  where  he's  to  be  found. 
Can't  you  do  anything  ? 

Maggie.  I  don't  know  how  to  stop  the  bleeding. 
I'm  so  useless. 

[Shell   passing   over  and  exploding. 
Enter  Amy  with  jug  of  water  and 
[97] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

glass  just  as  another  shell  crash  is 
heard  outside.  She  sways  against 
door-post  as  the  shell  bursts.  Hoarse 
screams  of  a  man  hit  outside  dying 
off  into  groans.  Voice  of  Color 
Sergeant  outside.] 

Color  Sergeant.  Now  then,  my  lad,  not  so 
much  noise  about  it. 

[Cross  Finch  down  to  window  and 
Paul  up.  Amy  totters  across  to 
Maggie,  gives  her  the  glass  and 
jug,  and  sinks  down  by  window-seat. 
Paul  goes  to  window.] 

Brown.  Curse  them!  curse  them! 

[Maggie  lifts  wounded  man's  head 
and  gives  him  water.] 

Amy.  Ada's  under  the  sofa  in  the  dining-room. 

Maggie.  What  for .? 

Amy.  Hiding,  I  think.  I  told  her  it  was  no  good 
— no  one  would  look  for  her.  I  believe  she's  got  the 
funks. 

Maggie.  Do  you  know  where  Sydney  is  ? 

Amy.  No,  I  didn't  see  him — ^haven't  seen  him  since 
he  ran  out  of  the  room. 

[Shudders  and  back  to  fireplace.] 

Captain  Finch  [since  shell  burst  has  been  fussily 
[98] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

looking  out  of  window,  searching  ground  with  field- 
glasses].  I  think  I  can  see  something — some  men — 
two  or  three  over  there.  [To  Paul.]  Here,  you! 
Do  you  see  —  over  there  —  at  the  edge  of  those 
trees  ?  There  now,  they're  moving — can't  you  see 
them .? 

Paul.  No,  sir.     Which  trees? 

Captain  Finch  [up  to  Paul].  Why,  those  tall 
trees — straight  over  the  corner  of  that  fence.  Don't 
you  see  now  ? 

First  Volunteer.  I  think  I  can  see  something, 
but  they're  a  long  way  off. 

Paul.  I  think  it's  out  of  range — that  wood. 

Captain  Finch.  Nonsense.  Of  course  it  isn't. 
Have  a  shot  at  them  anyway. 

[First   Volunteer    takes    a   long, 
steady  aim,  and  fires.] 

Captain  Finch  [looking  steadily  with  glasses]. 
That  hasn't  moved  them. 

Paul.  You  never  put  your  sight  up. 

Captain  Finch  [up  to  window].  Damn  it,  man, 
what's  the  good  of  that .?  Put  your  sight  up.  You 
want  a  nurse — shove  it  up  to  a  thousand  yards,  and 
try  again. 

Second  Volunteer.  More  than  that;  I  think  it's 
a  good  mile. 

[99] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Third  Volunteer.  No,  It  isn't;  I  bet  it's  not 
half  a  mile. 

Captain  Finch.  Well,  I  say  it's  a  thousand  yards; 
try  that,  do  you  hear  ?  Now,  have  another  shot — 
see  if  you  can't  shift  'em. 

[First  Volunteer  fires  again.] 
You  know,  I  don't  think  they  are  men,  after  all. 
Oh,  damn  these  things;  I  can't  get  'em  focussed. 
[Hands  glasses  to  Paul,]     Here,  you  have  a  try. 

[Shell    just    outside;     little    scream 
from  Amy;    muttered  oath  from  old 
Brown;   slight  start  back  by  group 
at  window.     Enter  Doctor  at  win- 
dow door,  covered  with  mud  splash- 
ed up  by  bursting  shell.] 
Doctor.  Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ?  I'm  a  doctor. 
Captain  Finch.  Oh,  a  doctor;  that's  good.     Do 
anything .?     I  should  think  you  could.     There  are 
four  or  five  outside. 

Doctor.  I've  seen  them — only  one  I  could  do 
anything  for. 

Captain  Finch.  Here's  a  man  here  rather  bad, 
I'm  afraid.     His  name's  Green.     He  was  hit  in  the 
chest  somewhere — by  a  shrapnel  bullet. 
[Back  to  window.] 
Doctor  [who  has  gone  toward  wounded  man]. 

[lOO] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Ah,  yes!  [To  Maggie.]  Allow  me,  please.  [Kneels 
down  in  Maggie's  place;  Maggie  stands  between 
him  and  man's  feet.]     Have  you  done  anything  ? 

Maggie.  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  He's  bleed- 
ing a  good  deal,  and  I  can't  stop  it. 

Doctor.  Can  you  get  me  some  water  in  a  basin .? 

Maggie.  Amy,  bring  some  water  in  a  basin. 

Amy  [jerks  up  and  totters  to  door].  Water  in  a 
basin — water  in  a  basin. 

[As  she  enters  door,  enter  Jackson; 
they  almost  collide.] 

Jackson.  I  beg  your  pardon. 

Doctor.  And  a  sponge. 

Amy.  All  right.     Water  in  a  basin — and  a  sponge. 
[Exits.] 

Captain  Finch.  Hullo,  Jackson,  what  is  it? 
Have  you  got  anything  to  report — got  any  men  hit  ? 
Have  you  seen  anything  ?  How  are  you  getting  on  ^ 
Eh.? 

Jackson  [very  cheerfully].  No,  we  haven't  seen 
anything.  It's  getting  a  bit  dull  up  there,  and  we're 
rather  tired  of  waiting  for  the  fun  to  begin.  I  hope 
it  won't  be  much  longer.  I  came  down  to  tell  you 
about  the  fire — ^we're  trying  to  put  it  out. 

Captain  Finch.  Putting  the  fire  out!    What  fire.? 
[Enter  Color  Sergeant.     Salutes.] 

8  [lOl] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Color  Sergeant.  The  roof's  on  fire,  sir. 

[Brown  looks  up,  shakes  his  fist  at 
the  heavens,  and  mutters  a  curse.] 
Captain  Finch  [angry].  The  roof!     Who  set  fire 
to  it? 

Color  Sergeant  [aggrieved].  The  enemy,  sir — 
shell  fire. 

Captain  Finch.  Well,  put  it  out. 
Jackson.  We've  tried  to — ^jolly  hard;  but  we've 
only  got  one  pail  and  a  water-jug,  and  we're  getting 
the  water  out  of  a  cistern. 

[Amy  enters  with  basin  and  sponge; 
goes  across  behind  Finch  to  Doctor, 
and  gives  it  to  him.] 
And   the   cistern    is   nearly   empty,    and   the   fire 
doesn't  seem  to  mind  it  much. 

Captain  Finch.  But,  look  here,  you  know  what  '11 
happen  if  you  can't  put  it  out .? 

Jackson.  Well,  I  suppose  it  will  go  on  burning. 
Captain  Finch.  Of  course  it  will;  I  know  that. 
But   what   I   mean    is,   will   you   be    able    to    stop 
there  ? 

Jackson  [going].  Oh,  we'll  stop  there  as  long  as 
we  can,  you  bet! 

Captain  Finch.  But  what  will  you   do   if  you 
can't  ? 

[102] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Jackson  [at  door].  Why,  we'll  come  down  here, 
I  suppose. 

[Exits.] 
Color  Sergeant  [has  been  standing  at  attention 
behind  Captain].  A  good  many  fires  broken  out  on 
the  right,  sir.     We  sha'n't  be  able  to  hold  on  here 
much  longer. 

Captain  Finch.  Don't  talk  nonsense.  Color  Ser- 
geant! Of  course  we  can  hold  on.  Who's  to  turn 
us  out  ?  There,  you  go  back  to  your  men  and  keep 
your  eyes  open — expect  we  shall  be  attacked  before 
long. 

[Color  Sergeant  salutes  and  exits.] 
[Finch   up  with   him;   Amy  across 
front.] 
Brown.  Curse  it  all,  sir,  are  you  going  to  let  these 
blackguards  have  it  all  their  own  way } 

Captain  Finch.  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  can 
we  do  to  'em  ? 

Brown.  Why  don't  you  let  them  have  it? 

[Maroon.] 
Captain  Finch.  Eh  ? 
Brown.  Why  don't  you  fire,  sir  ? 
Captain  Finch.  There's  nothing  to  fire  at. 

[Pause.     Captain  goes  to  window. 
Shell.     Shout  in  garden.] 
[103] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Brown.  They  seem  to  have  something  to  fire 
at! 

Captain  Finch.  Yes.  But  they've  got  something 
to  fire  with.     They've  got  guns. 

Brown.  Then  why  don't  you  fire  at  them  ?  Call 
yourself  a  soldier,  indeed ! 

Captain  Finch.  Because,  Mr.  Brown,  the  guns 
are  a  long  way  off,  and  we  can't  see  them,  and  we 
don't  know  where  they  are. 

Brown  [snorts].  Disgusting  ignorance! 

[Doctor  has  been  sponging  wound, 

plugging  it  with  cotton  wool,   etc., 

and  is  bandaging  it.     This  is  only 

implied  by  his  action;    actual  detail 

hidden  by  Maggie  standing  between 

him  and  audience.] 

Doctor    [to    Maggie].  You    know,    you    ladies 

oughtn't  to  be  here;   it's  too  exposed.     That  officer 

should  have  sent  you  away. 

Maggie.  He  tried  to,  but  we  refused;  we'd  rather 
stay  here. 
Doctor.  Why .? 

Maggie.  Oh,  I  couldn't  go  away.  I  feel  safer 
here  doing  something.  Besides,  I  shouldn't  know 
where  to  go.     I'd  rather  stay  here. 

Doctor.  But,  you  see,  you're  no  good  here.     I 
[104] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

don't  wish  to  be  unkind,  but  you  don't  know  any- 
thing. You  can't  be  of  any  use,  so  you'd  much  better 
be  out  of  danger. 

[Captain  Finch  down  to  window. 
Paul  on  chair.] 

Maggie.  No,  I've  never  learned.  I  know  I'm 
no  use,  but  I  must  stay  here. 

Paul  [at  window  with  glasses — having  got  chair, 
standing  up  on  it].  Hullo,  I  believe  I  see  some  of 
them  advancing — some  skirmishers. 

Captain  Finch.  No — do  you  }  Where  are  they .? 
[Sets  chair  at  back  of  him.]  Where  are  they  ?  Show 
me. 

Paul  [handing  the  glasses].  Do  you  see  that  field 
over  that  white  house  there  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Which  white  house .? 
[Chair  in  front  of  Paul.] 

Paul  [pointing].  That  one — there — with  the  two 
tall  chimneys. 

Captain  Finch.  Yes,  yes — I  see,  but  I  don't  see 
any  skirmishers. 

Paul.  They're  not  there.  Do  you  see  the  field 
over  the  white  house  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Of  course  I  do.     Well  ^ 

Paul.  Well,  right  away  at  the  right  top  corner  of 
that  field —     Do  you  see,  behind  the  fence — there — 

[105] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

there — now  there  are  some  men  coming  through  it — 
a  few.     Do  you  see  ? 

Captain  Finch.  Yes.  By  Jove,  now  I  see  them! 
Let's  open  fire  at  'em. 

Paul.  I  think  it's  better  not  to.  They're  a  long 
way  off — out  of  range,  I  should  say.  Better  reserve 
our  fire  till  they  get  closer,  and  then  let  'em  have  it  hot. 

Captain  Finch.  Perhaps  you're  right. 

Paul.  We  might  take  the  range  of  some  closer 
objects,  sir,  so  that  when  they  get  there — 

Captain  Finch.  When  they  get  where? 

Paul.  Why,  when  they  get  to  one  of  those  objects 
we  shall  know  the  range. 

Captain  Finch.  By  Jove,  that's  a  splendid  idea! 
How  shall  we  do  it .? 

Paul.  With  a  range-finder. 

Captain  Finch.  Why,  yes;  of  course.  Don't 
think  we've  got  one,  though.  Better  ask  the  Color 
Sergeant;  he'll  know. 

Paul.  I'll  go  and  ask  him,  sir. 
[Exits.] 

Doctor  [getting  up,  looks  at  patient  and  turns 
to  Captain  Finch].  There,  I  can't  do  any  more. 

Captain  Finch  [steps  off  chair;  pulls  Doctor 
away].  What  do  you  think  of  him  ? 

[Down  centre  from  chair.] 
[io6] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Doctor.  Oh,  he's  done  for! 

Captain  Finch.  Can't  you  do  anything — any- 
thing more,  I  mean  .? 

Doctor.  No.  I've  got  nothing  with  me.  [Putting 
on  coat.]  Don't  think  I  could  have  saved  him  in 
any  case.  You  see,  I  wasn't  prepared  for  this.  It 
was  all  such  a  hurried  business — hadn't  time  to 
bring  anything.  Can't  get  anything  here  except  a 
few  bandages — very  few — and  some  cotton  wool. 
I've  just  plugged  the  wound  to  stop  the  bleeding. 
There's  bad  internal  hemmorrhage — right  lung  per- 
forated, I  fancy.  He'll  die — soon  too.  Well,  I  must 
be  off. 

Captain  Finch.  I  say,  do  you  know  anything — 
how  things  are  going,  I  mean  ? 

Doctor.  Not  much.  There  was  some  rather  hot 
work  right  over  on  that  flank  [pointing],  and  the 
enemy's  skirmishers  were  driven  back.  They  haven't 
shown  up  since.  Nothing  but  artillery  fire,  which 
we  can't  answer. 

Captain  Finch.  Ah,  we  had  a  few  of  them  trying 
it  on  soon  after  we  got  here,  but  they  didn't  stay  long. 
They  didn't  do  much  harm — killed  a  man,  though; 
not  one  of  mine — wretched  civilian,  belonged  to  the 
house.  We  drove  'em  off  though. 
[Up  to  window.] 
[107] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Maggie  [has  been  talking  to  wounded  man]. 
Amy! 

[Doctor,  centre.] 

Amy.  Yes? 

Maggie.  Get  me  a  pencil  and  some  paper. 

Amy.  Pencil  and  paper.  [Going.]  Pencil  and 
paper — pencil  and  paper. 

[Exits  slowly.     Shell.     She  suddenly 
bangs  door.] 

Captain  Finch.  If  we  have  to  move  from  here, 
what  shall  I  do  with  the  wounded  ? 

Doctor.  One  of  them  can  walk  all  right.  Better 
send  him  off  at  once  to  the  rear.  You  must  carry 
the  rest. 

Captain  Finch.  Carry  them  ?    How  ? 

Doctor.  Stretchers. 

Captain  Finch.  Where  shall  I  get  the  stretchers  ? 

Doctor.  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  Didn't  you 
bring  any  with  you  ? 

Captain  Finch.  No,  I  never  thought  of  it.  Don't 
think  any  one  thought  of  it.  I  shouldn't  have  known 
where  to  find  them  if  I  had  thought  of  it.  But  I  had 
no  time  to  think  of  anything.  We  were  just  bundled 
off  anyhow. 

Doctor.  Well,  you'll  have  to  leave  them,  that's 
all.     Take  them  out,  and  lay  them  down  out  there. 

[108I 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Perhaps  we  shan't  move.     Anyway,  I   shall  hang 
about. 

[Enter  Amy  with  paper,  etc.,  which 
she  gives  to  Maggie.] 
Captain  Finch.  Are  there  many  wounded  ? 
Doctor.  Yes,  a  goodish  number. 
Captain  Finch.  Are    you   coming   back    again  ? 
Where  shall  I  find  you  if  I  want  you  ?     Have  you  got 
a  hospital  or  anything  ? 

Doctor.  I  tell  you  there's  nothing — absolutely 
nothing — except  a  little  cotton  wool  and  some  band- 
ages. 

[Shell  passing  overand  exploding.] 
[Exits.] 

[Captain  up  to  window  and  back 
again.     Maggie    is    writing     letter 
for  wounded   man,   Amy  gives  him 
water.     Enter  Paul.] 
Paul.  Color  Sergeant  says  he  hasn't  got  a  range- 
finder,  sir.     But  he's  already  got  several  ranges  from 
trial  shots.     Here  they  are. 

[Hands  a  paper.] 

[Shell  passing  over  and  exploding.] 
Captain  Finch  [takes  paper,  puts  on  spectacles, 
and  reads].  "Small  house,  500  yards."    Which  small 

house  ? 

[109] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Paul  [while  Captain  Finch  is  putting  on  spec- 
tacles]. The  one,  sir,  with  the  red  roof.  The  Golf 
Club. 

Captain  Finch.  Bend     in    the     road — yes — 800 
yards.     Do  you  think  they're  all  right .? 
[Rise  go  to  window.] 

Paul.  He  says  they're  quite  accurate  enough,  sir, 
for  the  class  of  shot  we've  got. 

Captain  Finch.  Well,  where  are  those  men  now  ? 
[On  chair.]  Can  we  see  them .?  Are  they  coming 
closer  ?     Have  you  been  watching  them  ? 

Paul.  They're  moving  mighty  slow,  but  they're  a 
bit  thicker,  I  fancy. 

Captain  Finch  [looking  at  the  paper].  We'll 
open  fire  when  they  get  to  the  farm  buildings,  eh  ^ 
Don't  you  think  so  ?  That  would  be  a  good  range,  I 
think. 

Paul.  They  won't  be  there  for  some  time  at  the 
rate  they're  moving.  What's  the  Color  Sergeant 
judge  that  ?     Seems  a  long  way  off. 

Captain  Finch.  Calls  it  1,500,  with  a  query 
after  it. 

Paul.  Yes,  he  said  he  wasn't  very  certain  of  that 
one.  Anyway,  I  think  it's  too  far.  We  haven't  got 
too  much  ammunition — only  about  fifty  rounds  a 
man  served  out.     Better  keep  it  till  it's  likely  to  tell. 

[110] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Captain  Finch.  Seems  a  pity  not  to  scare  them 
a  little  first,  don't  you  think  ? 

Paul.  None  of  these  men  can  shoot,  from  what  the 
Color  Sergeant  tells  me.  Some  of  'em  never  fired 
a  round  except  on  a  miniature  range.  They  won't 
do  much  scaring. 

Captain  Finch.  Oh,  well,  have  it  your  own  way. 
Perhaps  you're  right.  I'm  going  to  see  the  men. 
[As  he  is  about  to  exit  he  meets  Reggie.]  Hullo! 
who  are  you  ? 

Reggie  [amazed].  Who  am  I  ? 

[Captain  Finch  exits  up-stairs,  not 
waiting  for  answer.] 
[Enter  Reggie.     He  is  rather  travel- 
stained,  but  quite  calm — stodgy,  in 
fact.] 
Reggie.  Hullo,  Paul,  you  here  ? 
Paul.  Looks   like   it.     Where   have   you    been  ? 
[Still  on  chair;  gets  oflF  it,  and  goes 
to  window.] 
Reggie.  Oh,  all  over  the  place,  having  a   look. 
Well,  pa,  what  became  of  you  ?    You  ought  to  have 
stuck  to   me.     I've   seen   a   good   deal,  I   can   tell 
you. 

Brown  [grunts].  Hope  you're  pleased  with  it. 
Reggie.  No,  I'm  not!    From  what  I  have  seen, 
[III] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

I  can't  say  I'm  impressed  with  the  intelligence  of 
those  who  are  running  this  show. 

Brown.  Idiots,  I  expect,  every  man  Jack  of  them! 

Reggie.  You're  about  right,  pa.  I  don't  think 
there's  any  sense  in  the  whole  thing.  I  talked  to  a 
good  many  of  the  officers,  and  told  them  what  I 
thought  ought  to  be  done.  But  it  wasn't  much  good 
— they  wouldn't  take  a  hint,  though  it  was  kindly 
meant.  I  only  wanted  to  help  them.  A  stupid  lot, 
I  think.  Regular  officers,  too,  some  of  them  were — 
seemed  to  be  in  authority,  and  running  the  show. 
It's  quite  right  what  the  papers  were  always  saying 
— they  don't  know  their  job.  That's  bad  enough, 
but  where  I  blame  them  is  they  won't  listen  to  a  man 
who's  got  some  common -sense  in  him,  and  only 
wants  to  help  'em  out. 

Brown.  They  ought  to  be  hanged.  They're  re- 
sponsible for  this. 

Reggie.  That's  what  I  say,  and  what  I  told  'em. 
But,  bless  you,  they  don't  seem  to  feel  it.  I  told  them 
that  they  were  paid  to  defend  the  country,  and  if  this 
was  the  way  they  did  it,  we  didn't  get  value  for  our 
money. 

Brown.  They  ought  to  be  hanged  on  every 
lamp-post! 

Reggie.  I  let  them  know  my  opinion,  I  assure  you. 

[112] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

But    they're    a    thick-skinned    lot — some    of   them 
rather  wanting  in  manners,  too. 

Lindsay  [outside].  Where's  Captain  Finch  ? 

[Amy  crosses  to  table.] 
Color  Sergeant.  Inside  the  house,  sir. 
Voice.  Send  a  man  to  hold  my  horse,  please,  Color 
Sergeant. 

[Enter  Captain  Lindsay,  the  Ad- 
jutant.] 
Adjutant.  Captain  Finch  here? 
Paul.  Yes,  sir,  he's  in  the  next  room.     Shall  I 
call  him  ? 

Adjutant.  Yes,  please.     Say  I  want  to  see  him. 
Tell  him  the  Adjutant,  Captain  Lindsay,  wants  him. 
[Two   shells   passing  over   and   ex- 
ploding.] 
[Exit  Paul.] 
[To  men  at  window].  Anything  to  shoot  at .? 
Volunteer.  Not  yet,  sir. 

[Shell.] 
Adjutant.  Then  what's  the  good  of  standing 
there,  exposing  yourselves  ?  Get  down  under  cover. 
What's  the  good  of  taking  risks  ? — ^wall's  no  good 
against  rifle  fire.  But  shrapnel  at  this  range  won't 
hurt — if  you  lie  low.  Standing  up  like  that,  you  may 
get  hit. 

[113] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Volunteer.  We're  not  frightened. 

Adjutant.  Didn't    say    you    were,    but    you're 
damned  foolish. 

[Enter  Captain  Finch.] 

Captain  Finch.  Hullo,  Lindsay,  what  is  it — 
what's  happening .?  Have  you  got  any  orders  .?  Are 
we  beating  them  ?     What  are  we  going  to  do  ? 

Adjutant  [coolly].  We  are  going  to  retire. 
[Lights  pipe.] 

Captain  Finch.  Retire  ?    What  for  ? 

Brown.  Retire.?    Never! 

Reggie.  Nonsense!  Why  should  we  retire? 
What's  the  point  of  retiring .? 

Captain  Finch.  I  say,  Lindsay,  surely  we  could 
hold  on  here.     Is  there  any  reason  for  us  to  retire .? 

Adjutant  [not  noticing  the  question].  Finch,  you 
shouldn't  have  allowed  these  people  to  stop  here. 
They're  in  the  way.  You  should  have  ordered  them  out. 

Captain  Finch.  I  tried  to  make  them  see  that 
when  I  got  here,  but  they  simply  refused  to  move. 

Brown.  If  by  the  expression  "these  people"  you 
are  alluding  to  me  and  my  family,  let  me  tell  you,  sir, 
that  we  have  more  right  here  than  you.  This  is  my 
house,  and  it  would  be  a  pretty  state  of  things  if  any 
jackanapes  in  uniform  could  order  an  Englishman 
off  his  own  property! 

[114] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Adjutant  [looks  at  him,  but  doesn't  answer].  And 
these  ladies.  Finch,  they  really  must  go;  it's  not  safe 
for  them — ^you  must  send  them  away  before  you 
retire. 

Captain  Finch.  Oh,  all  right,  but  do  tell  me  why 
we  are  to  retire.     There  must  be  some  reason. 

Adjutant  [dryly].  There  are — several.  One  of 
them  is — ^we  can't  stay. 

Brown.  Can't  stay!     Don't  want  to  stay. 

Adjutant.  Another  is,  we've  done  all  that  we 
were  sent  here  for. 

Brown.  Damn  it,  you've  done  nothing! 

Adjutant.  And  perhaps  the  best  of  all,  it  is  an 
order — as  Kim  says. 

Reggie.  Well,  I  don't  know  who  "Kim"  may  be, 
but  I  should  like  to  give  him  my  opinion  of  him. 

Brown.  He  ought  to  be  hanged — ^whatever  his 
rank  is! 

Captain  Finch.  But  I  say,  Lindsay,  do  explain 
it  a  little.  Can't  you  tell  me  something  f  You  see, 
we've  no  notion  of  what's  been  going  on.  They 
aren't  pressing  us;  we  could  hold  on  here  for  hours. 

Adjutant.  My  dear  Finch,  that's  not  the  point, 
even  if  it  were  true — which  it  isn't. 

Brown.  I  say  we  could  hold  on  here  forever. 

Adjutant  [to  Finch].  Who  is  this  British  bulldog  ? 
[115] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Captain  Finch.  Oh,  he's  the  owner  of  this  house. 

Adjutant.  Of  course;  I  believe  he  mentioned  it 
just  now.  I  can  understand  his  feelings.  Now, 
look  here,  we've  done  all  that  was  expected  of  us. 

Captain  Finch.  But  we  haven't  won. 

Adjutant.  Yes,  we  have,  we've  won  time.  Not 
much,  but  enough,  I  fancy,  with  a  scratch  crowd  of 
a  few  hundreds — without  guns.  We've  kept  thou- 
sands of  these  Johnnies  monkeying  about  for  some 
hours.  Doesn't  seem  much,  but  every  minute  was 
precious  and  means  another  Company  in  position, 
and  now  we  can't  hold  on  any  longer  and  aren't 
wanted  to.  We  just  vanish  in  a  blaze — or  rather 
under  cover  of  one. 

Captain  Finch.  But  when  do  we  retire  ^  And 
how  ?    And  where  do  we  go  to  ? 

Adjutant.  Usual  direction  to  the  rear.  Now 
look  here.  Finch.  The  right's  going  first,  and  you'll 
be  the  last  to  flit.  Don't  move  till  you  see  the  lot  on 
your  right  here  are  off^.  Then  get  away  cleverly — 
few  at  a  time,  extended.  Collect  them  below  and 
close  on  the  centre — once  you're  out  of  sight  get  a 
move  on. 

[Shell.] 

Captain  Finch.  But  what  will  the  enemy  do  when 
we're  gone  ?     What  will  they  think  we've  gone  for  ? 

[ii6] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Brown.  Think  that  you're  cowards. 

Adjutant.  Don't  know  what  they'll  think,  and 
don't  care.  What  they'll  do  isn't  so  difficult  to 
imagine — come  after  us.  They'll  waste  time  over 
this  township,  though,  and  we  shall  get  clear. 

Captain  Finch.  What  will  they  do  here? 
[Shell.] 

Adjutant.  Well,  there  won't  be  much  left  for 
them  to  do.  They'll  look  for  us,  perhaps,  but  they 
won't  find  us — see  ? 

[Captain  Finch  up  to  window.] 

Brown.  More  shame  to  you.     They  will  find  me. 

Adjutant.  If  you  take  my  advice,  you  gentlemen 
will  start  at  once,  taking  these  ladies  with  you. 

Brown.  You  advise  me  to  run  away  from  these 
scoundrels — me .?     I  shall  stay  here  and  defy  them. 

Adjutant.  That's  your  own  affair  entirely.  But 
please  tell  these  ladies  to  go  away  now. 

Brown.  Certainly  not.  They  know — er — what 
is  expected  of  them. 

Captain  Finch.  But,  I  say,  Lindsay,  they  will 
come  after  us,  won't  they  ?  We  shall  give  them  a 
fight,  sha'n't  we  ?  We  mustn't  let  these  fellows  think 
they've  beaten  us,  eh  ? 

Adjutant.  Don't  you  be  afraid.     If  they  think 
that,  it  won't  last  long.     Back  over  there  is  a  British 
9  [117] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Army  —  horse,  foot,  and  dragoons  —  in  position. 
Ready,  thanks  to  us,  mind  you,  and  willing  —  oh 
yes,  damned  willing — not  to  mention  able — to  knock 
all  the  extra  swelling  out  of  their  heads. 

Captain  Finch.  No — really  ?  By  Jove,  that's 
quick  work! 

Adjutant.  It's  splendid  work — considering.  But 
they've  done  it,  from  all  we  hear.  Brought  'em  up 
by  train,  motors,  'buses — every  blessed  thing  that 
could  move  has  been  making  the  roads  hot.  The 
motor  'buses  breaking  the  time  limit,  chock-a-block 
with  Guardsmen  and  Blue-jackets,  have  been  one 
of  the  most  cheering  sights  ever  seen,  a  fellow  on 
the  staff  said,  fairly  lapping  over  each  other,  and 
policemen  cheering  them  on  instead  of  taking  their 
number. 

[Enter  Jackson.] 

Jackson.  I  say,  Finch — oh,  I  beg  pardon.  Good- 
morning,  sir.  We  can't  stay  up  there  any  longer, 
it's  too  smoky;  we  couldn't  see  anything  if  we  did 
stop,  and  I  don't  think  we  really  can. 

Adjutant.  Considering  the  state  of  the  roof,  I 
think  you've  done  jolly  well  to  stay  up  so  long. 
However,  it  doesn't  matter  now.  Come  down — eh. 
Finch  ?  Let  them  come  down,  and  then  get  the 
rest  of  your  men  out  in  the  grounds  here. 

fiiS] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Captain  Finch.  Right,  sir.  You  understand,  Jack- 
son ?    Take  these  men  out  that  way,  and  then  the  men 
up-stairs.     Never  mind,  I'll  go  and  see  about  them. 
[Exits,  followed  by  Jackson.] 

Paul.  The  enemy  are  a  bit  closer  now.  Shall  we 
fire  at  them  ? 

[Few  shots  from  enemy  heard.] 

Adjutant  [looks].  Yes,  you  can  have  a  few  shots. 
Don't  throw  your  ammunition  away — ^just  a  shot  now 
and  then,  to  keep  them  thinking,  and  do,  for  goodness' 
sake,  keep  down  and  don't  expose  yourselves.  And 
now,  Mr. — er — now,  sir,  I  warn  you  that  you'd  better 
get  away.  The  house,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  seems  pretty 
well  alight,  and  you  may  be  roughly  handled  when 
the  enemy  gets  here.  Soldiers  who've  just  captured 
a  position  aren't  too  gentle  in  their  manners,  and  they 
may — 

Brown.  And  pray,  sir,  whose  fault  is  it  that  the 
enemy  will  capture  the  position  ?  I  am  not  afraid 
of  them — I  have  no  fear  of  exposing  myself.  Let 
them  come,  I  say,  as  rough  as  you  please,  and  I  will 
stay  here  and  defend  my  house  and  my  country, 
even  if  those  who  are  paid  to  do  so  haven't  the  pluck. 

Adjutant.  Now,  look  here,  sir,  you're  talking 
rot!  I'm  fed  up  with  your  pluck — ^you  can  stop  here 
and  make  an  ass  of  yourself  for  all  I  care — only  I 

["9] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

warn  you,  you'll  get  into  bad  trouble  if  you  attempt 
to  do  anything  to  defend  your  house — or  your  coun- 
try, as  you  call  it.  Let  me  tell  you,  you've  no  right 
to  defend  anything — ^you're  a  civilian;  you've  no 
uniform,  and  you're  not  allowed  to  defend  your 
country.  You  may  consider  yourself  a  perfect  mass 
of  patriotism,  but  you'd  be  better  employed  cursing 
yourself  for  not  having  earned  the  right  to  defend 
your  own  country  than  cursing  and  slandering  those 
real  patriots  who  have! 

[Exits.] 

[Shell  and  distant  musketry.] 
Brown.  Impertinent  puppy! 
Reggie.  They're  all  that,  these  army  officers. 
Think  they're  the  only  people  who  know  anything, 
when,  between  you  and  me,  they  know  less  than  most. 
All  the  same,  he's  right  in  one  thing:  there  is  no  point 
in  staying  here,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  if  these  fellows 
are  all  going  to  bolt! 

[Some  rapid  firing  out  in  the  garden, 

encouraged    and    directed    by    the 

Color  Sergeant.] 
Color    Sergeant   [outside    in    garden].    Steady 
there!     Steady! 

[Finch  crosses  from  door  to  opening. 

Long  whistle;  firing  gradually  stops.] 
[120] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Color  Sergeant  [voice  heard  outside].  Cease 
firing — cease  firing!  You  must  pay  attention  to  the 
whistle,  and  don't  fire  wildly  like  that — it's  a  great 
waste  of  ammunition ! 

Reggie.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Better  come 
away.     We  can  do  no  good  here — wasted,  I  think. 

Brown.  I  shall  most  assuredly  stop  here, 

Reggie.  Well,  it's  a  free  country,  but  I  think 
you're  wrong.  I'm  off — I  shall  put  a  few  things 
together,  and  then  go  and  see  what's  happening.  I 
shall  probably  sleep  at  Aunt  Emily's  to-night,  and 
advise  you  to  get  there  too.  This  won't  last  long, 
and  you  girls  had  better  come  with  me.  No  point  in 
stopping  here.  Of  course,  you  will  be  rather  in  the 
way,  but  I'll  find  you  somewhere  to  go,  and  you'll  be 
safer  with  me.  Come  along,  Maggie  —  now  then. 
Amy,  wake  up ! 

Maggie.  No,  Reggie,  I  shall  stay  here  with  Dad. 

Reggie  [has  caught  sight  of  the  papers  on  the 
floor — collects  them].  Oh,  well,  do  what  you  like. 
Pity  to  leave  these;  they  were  pretty  useful,  I  think. 
Come,  Amy! 

[Effect  at  exit.] 

[No  answer  from  Amy,  who  is  rather 

collapsed  at  foot  of  sofa.] 

[Exit  to  hall.] 

[121] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Paul.  Might  try  a  shot  at  them  now,  I  think.  I 
think — there,  see!  Where  that  bunch  of  them  is — 
quick — sight's  eight — no,  nine  hundred  yards.  Now, 
steady  aim.  [Sights  one  man's  rifle  for  him.]  There. 
[Points.]    Now! 

[They  all  fire,  and  look  to  see  where 
their  shots  go.] 
Paul.  Nowhere  near  them,  I  should  say. 

[Enter  Jackson.] 
Jackson.  Finch!     I  say.  Finch!    Here  [to  Paul], 
where's  Captain  Finch  ^ 
Paul.  He's  up-stairs. 

Jackson.  No,  he's  not,  he  must  be  out  there  with 
the  Color  Sergeant. 

Paul.  What  do  you  want  him  for  ? 
Jackson.  Well,   the   next   lot   on   our   right   are 
shoving  off.     [Goes  to  centre  window  door.]    We  shall 
have  to  skip  now. 

[Enter  Reggie,  rather  excited;  has  a 

greatcoat  on   him,  and  the  pockets 

are  bulging  with  things  in  them.] 

Reggie.  I   say,   come   along   quickly;  you   can't 

stop  here  another  minute — every  one's  going!     The 

roof's  well  alight,   and  will   fall   any  minute!     It's 

absurd!     Come!     I   could   hardly   get   up-stairs   to 

get  some  things.     Come  along! 

[122] 


AN  ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

[Stony  stare  from  old  Brown.] 
Maggie,  are  you  coming  ?  [Silence.]  Well,  Amy, 
do  you  hear.?  Amy,  come  with  me!  [Goes  to  her 
and  shakes  her.]  Rouse  yourself.  Amy.  [Shake.] 
Damn  it,  you  must  come.  Do  you  hear — the  whole 
house  is  coming  down.  Ada's  gone,  and  I  can't  find 
Sydney  anywhere.     You  must  come,  I  say! 

[Hauls  her  and  goes  to  door.] 

[She    totters    after    him.       Exeunt. 

Shell.     Shell.] 

[Captain  and  Jackson  at  window 

door.] 
Captain  Finch  [enters  hole  in  wall,  followed  by 
Jackson].  That's  what  you've  got  to  do — ^you  un- 
derstand, Jackson  .?  Get  them  away,  well  extended 
— ^you  understand  ?  And  I'll  join  you  at  the  bottom. 
Now,  be  quick  about  it.  No  time  to  waste. 
Jackson.  All   right. 

[Runs    through    the   room   and   out 

at    door,    while    Paul    and    three 

Volunteers     are    firing    a    little. 

Shell.] 
Captain  Finch    [without    coming    into    room]. 
Now  then,  you  fellows,  it's  time  to  retire.     Every 
one  out  of  the  house —    Now,  come  on,  do  you  hear 
me? 

[123] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

First  Volunteer.  Here  goes  for  another  shot  at 
the  beggars!       [Fires.     He  and  the  other  two  Vol- 
unteers come  away  in  a  slow,  dawd- 
ling manner.] 
Captain  Finch.  Hurry  up — come  on!     Will  you 
do  what  I  tell  you  .? 

[Leaves  window.     Exit.] 
Third  Volunteer.  Damn  this  retiring!     I  don't 
understand  it. 

Paul.  Never  mind  that;    those  are  the  orders — 
Come,  out  you  get! 

[Volunteers  go  out. 
[Some  firing  by  Color  Sergeant's 
party  outside.  Shouts  of  "Color 
Sergeant!"  by  Captain.  Whisde. 
Firing  stops.] 
Captain  Finch  [outside].  Color  Sergeant,  do  you 
hear  what  I  say  ? 

Color  Sergeant.  Yes,  sir. 
Captain  Finch.  You  understand — a  few  men  at 
a  time  while  the  rest  keep  on  firing. 
Color  Sergeant.  Yes,  sir,  I  understand. 

[Shell.    Shell.    Enemy's  musketry.] 
Now  then,  let  'em  have  it! 

[Firing.     Sparks  begin  to  fall  from 
the  roof.] 

[124] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

Paul.  Now,  Mr.  Brown — every  one  is  retiring. 

Brown.  Cowards! 

[Whistle  outside — firing  ceases.] 

Paul.  Maggie,  you  must  go  away.  You  can't 
stay  here — ^you  can  do  no  more  for  that  poor  fellow! 

Maggie.  No,  Paul,  he's  dead. 

Paul.  Come,  Maggie! 

Maggie.  Don't  go  away,  Paul,  don't — stay  here 
with  me! 

Paul.  Oh,  my  dear!  my  dear!     I  mustn't  stop! — 
my  job  is  over  there  with  the  others. 
[Shell.] 

You  must  go — ^you  can't  stay  here. 

[Musketry.  Distant  shouts.  Whistle.] 

Color  Sergeant  [outside].  Now  then,  you  on  the 
right,  off  you  get — extend!     Extend! 

Paul.  But  you  can't,  Maggie!  You  can't!  It's 
all  right  for  your  father.  He's  a  man — they  won't 
hurt  him.  But  for  you,  Maggie,  it's  impossible! 
Come  with  me — now! 

Maggie.  Where  to,  Paul? 

Paul.  Back  there  with  the  rest. 

[Points.     Shell.     Shell.] 

Maggie.  Oh,  I  can't  dear!  I  can't!  I  can't 
leave  him — father — all  alone.  But  you  stay,  Paul, 
you  can  stay.     Stop  with   me  always!     It  doesn't 

[125] 


"       AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

matter  what  happens  if  you  stay  with  me!     Oh,  Paul 
— Paul — don't  go! 

[Noise  outside  repeated,  as  before,] 

Color  Sergeant  [outside].  Now,  away  you  go! 
Keep  down — ^keep  down!     Don't  show  yourselves ! 

Paul  [to  Maggie].  I  must;  it's  my  duty. 

Maggie.  What  difference  will  one  make,  over 
there  with  all  those  others  ^  Stay  with  me — I  want 
you! 

[Shell.     Noise.     Shouting,  etc. 
[Enter  Sydney,  crying,  hysterical.] 

Sydney.  Maggie!  Maggie!  I'm  frightened!  I 
can't  find  any  one.     Take  me  away! 

[Maggie  takes  him  in  her  arms.] 

Maggie.  Sydney,  Sydney  darling!  Where  have 
you  been  .?  There,  there,  you  must  go  away — with 
Paul.  He'll  look  after  you.  Paul  will  take  you 
away  with  him — ^won't  you,  Paul  ? 

Sydney.  No,  no,  I  want  to  go  with  you,  Maggie. 
I  won't  go — I  won't  go  with  any  one  else! 

Maggie.  Come  then,  dear — ^we'll  go  together. 
There,  there,  Sydney,  don't  blub,  old  man!  No  one 
will  hurt  you — come  along,  dear.  [Takes  him  out 
by  window  door.]  Come,  Paul,  I'll  start  with  you. 
[Aside]  And  you  can  look  after  Syd  when  I  come 
back. 

[126] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

[Paul  has  a  look  out  of  the  win- 
dow at  the  enemy;  then  looks  at 
Brown,  shrugs  his  shoulders,  and 
follows.] 

Paul.  This  way,  Maggie! 

[Exeunt  quickly.] 

[Enemy's    shouts    nearer.       Shouts 

from  Color  Sergeant.] 

Color.  Sergeant.  Now  then,  away  you  go. 
Corporal  Banks;  get  your  men  off  quickly,  then — 
now! 

[Last  burst  of  firing.  Shell.  Shell. 
Old  Brown  standing  by  fireplace, 
sparks  falling  outside,  rolling  smoke, 
last  few  dropping  shots  fired  as  the 
last  of  Color  Sergeant's  party  are 
retiring.  Occasional  shell,  distant 
hum  of  shouts  of  enemy  coming 
closer.  He  stalks  to  window  and 
looks  out.] 

Brown.  Curse  them!     Oh,  curse  them  all! 

[An  occasional  bullet  strikes  the 
brickwork  outside,  and  one  or  two 
at  intervals  hum  through  the  open 
window  and  strike  something  inside. 
Brown  comes  down,  picks  up  rifle 
[127] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

of  dead  soldier,  looks  at  it,  goes  to 
window,  points  it,  and  pulls  trigger 
— no  result.  Throws  it  down,  then 
slowly  picks  it  up  again,  moves  to 
middle  of  room  and  fiddles  with  it. 
At  last  opens  it,  closes  it,  opens  it 
again,  looks  round,  sees  bandolier 
cut  off  dead  soldier  by  the  Doctor, 
picks  it  up,  takes  it  to  window,  then 
slowly  and  with  clumsiness  loads 
the  rifle.  Stands  full  upright  and 
fires  straight  front,  exposing  self, 
watching  effect,  slowly  repeats  the 
process.  A  bullet  hits  window-sill. 
Brown,  who  has  been  acting  like 
a  man  in  a  dream — a  sort  of  automa- 
ton— seems  to  wake  up.  He  be- 
comes from  instinct  a  fighting  man. 
He  takes  cover,  crouches  in  left 
corner  of  window,  he  takes  aim,  he 
fires  with  more  interest  and  quicker. 
The  lust  of  battle  comes  over  him. 
After  one  shot  he  gives  a  wild  shout 
of  triumph.  After  another,  he  shouts 
"Another!"  The  enemy's  shouts 
show  they  are  getting  near — ^nearer 
[128] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S   HOME 

— quite  near.  They  are  in  the  house, 
running  about,  smashing  open  doors. 
The  door  opens  with  a  crash,  two 
bearded  Infantrymen  rush  in.  First 
one  takes  a  hurried  shot  at  Brown, 
who  is  still  firing  out  of  window — 
misses  him  —  and  then  rushes  at 
him  with  bayonet  lowered.  Brown 
turns,  clubs  his  rifle,  swings  the 
butt  down  on  the  soldier's  bayonet, 
turns  it,  then,  with  all  his  might, 
hits  him  straight  between  the  eyes 
and  fells  him.  The  second  soldier 
is  just  going  to  stick  him  when 
enter  Prince  Yoland,  door  up 
left.] 
Yoland.  What  is  this .?  Why!  [Looks  round.] 
Ah!  it  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Brown.  •  Let  him  be. 

Officer.  He's  been  fighting.  He  killed  one  of 
my  men  as  we  came  up. 

Yoland.  What  is  that.?  [Sternly.]  You  have 
been  fighting;  you  have  no  right — 

Brown.  No  right,  you  blackguards!  No  right! 
It's  you  that  have  no  right.  It's  my  house  you're 
attacking. 

Yoland.  You're  not  a  soldier. 
[129] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Brown.  Bah!  What  does  that  matter?  I'm  an 
Englishman. 

[YoLAND  brushes  him  off.] 
YoLAND.  Take  him  out  and  shoot  him. 
Brown.  What  do  you  say .? 

YoLAND.  You    are    a    civilian;    you    have    been 
fighting.     I  am  sorry  you  must  pay  the  penalty. 
Brown.  Very  well.     [Pause.]     I'm  ready. 
[YoLAND  salutes  him.] 
[Exit.     Just    at    his    exit    Maggie 
enters.] 
Maggie.  My  father!    What  are  you  doing  with 
him.? 

YoLAND.  I  regret,  lady,  your  father  is  a  pris- 
oner. 

Maggie.  A  prisoner — what  for.?  He  is  an  old 
man.  He  is  not  a  soldier.  Why  do  you  make  him 
a  prisoner  ?     He  can  do  no  harm. 

YoLAND.  He  is  a  civilian,  and  he  was  fighting.  He 
killed  some  of  my  men. 

Maggie.  But  he  will  not  be  a  prisoner  for  long. 
You  will  let  him  go.     He  will  soon  be  free. 
[Volley  off  right.] 
[Exits  screaming.] 
YoLAND.  It's  a  pity,  but  it  can't  be  helped. 

[Taking  out  map  and  sitting  down.] 
[130] 


AN   ENGLISHMAN'S    HOME 

Officer.  Do  we  stay  here,  sir  ? 

[Crosses  to  fireplace.] 

YoLAND  [picking  up  chair  and  sitting  right  of 
table.]  Yes,  here  in  what  the  late  owner  called  "An 
Englishman's  Home." 

Officer.  For  how  long,  sir? 


THE    END 


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